Too Many Secrets
by vettac
Summary: Faye and CB angst.
1. Telling Secrets

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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**Telling Secrets**

The control deck was dark as Jet and Faye looked out over the desert surface of Mars. The ship was still nonfunctional after the syndicate attack, and Jet had yet to start the repairs. Faye suspected that he was delaying, waiting for Spike to return, although they both knew better.

She could feel Jet's eyes upon her as he spoke, and she hated that he was feeling sorry for her, but she could not bring herself to snap at him. It wouldn't change anything, Spike would still be gone. As the thought ran through her mind, she could feel the tears welling up as her throat threatened to close even more than it already was.

_Damnit Spike_!

She wondered absently where Ed was. She really hoped that she had found her father; then at least one of them would be happy.

_You should find where you belong, Edward. Belonging is the very best thing._

Why did she tell her that? She wanted Edward here with them, not somewhere on earth looking for her father. Hell, she even missed the damned dog.

The rustling of paper brought her back to the present and she glanced up to see Jet trying to read the small print on the spec sheet for the parts. _He needs to get some glasses to read that,_ she thought. She knew that there were specs for old people on the market, maybe those could work for Jet, even though he wasn't really that old. Jet would never admit that he couldn't see the words; he would get Spike to read the stuff, pretending to be laying the parts out and that two heads were better than one …

Spike had said that one day someone would come after him. He probably wouldn't have remembered saying anything – it was after his nearly fatal fall from the cathedral window. He had been thrashing in his sleep and was mumbling nonsense, but that part she had heard as clear as day. At the time she had dismissed it, but later, months later, when she recalled the look on his face when he had walked into the cathedral - absolutely calm and cold - she knew that there was more to him than the happy-go-lucky idiot that she loved to hate.

"What was that?" Jet asked her.

Faye paused. She hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud. "He said something strange when he left."

"What?" Jet looked at her in surprise.

"He told me that somebody was after him. He said . . ." She swallowed. She wasn't used to talking so candidly to Jet, but this time … "He said someone had to die and that they'd come for him if he didn't go. That's what he said."

"That idiot," Jet grumbled. "Sounds just like that self-righteous lunkhead."

"Why didn't he ask for our help?" Faye asked softly. "He didn't have to go it alone."

Jet sighed. "Faye, I guess we'll never know for sure." He gazed at her intently. "Would you really have gone if he had asked?"

_Yes._

But this time Faye could only look at him, not able to speak aloud. She couldn't - it hurt too much. She silently turned away from him to continue staring out at the stars.


	2. A Little Bit of Sympathy

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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**Chapter 2. A Little Bit of Sympathy**

Spike slouched on the rickety chair in his kitchen, restlessly drumming his fingers on the worn and shabby table. He looked down at the linoleum floor, adorned with dirty smudges from the constant traffic of his feet as he moved in and out of the room to eat, smoke, or drink. He supposed he should clean it one day. Today was not going to be that day. The walls of the kitchen were peppered with cooking stains from the previous tenant, and the landlord had not bothered to paint when he moved four months ago. Hell, he'd be willing to bet that the place hadn't been painted in years.

Not that he really cared either way. The apartment came furnished with a couch and television in the living room, had a pantry large enough to store food and weapons, and a small bedroom that he hardly ever slept in. He used the place to clean his guns and to sleep on the couch after a job. And the price was right.

Most days he'd go down to the Glowing Sun for a meal and a drink and sometimes play a game or two of pool before coming home to sleep.

He thought about food and his stomach grumbled, but he didn't feel like going back out. He stood up to stretch the stiffness from his legs, and trudged over to the refrigerator to find something to eat. He looked inside, knowing what he would find: not much, since he disliked shopping for food. Anyway, he wasn't much of a cook – that had been Jet's job.

_I guess it's instant noodles with cheese._ He sighed and took out a block of cheese. At times like these he would have settled for some of Jet's bell peppers even without beef, but since he had detached himself from his past life on the old fishing trawler, it was not an option.

He examined the cheese closely, wondering how long it had been in the fridge, but, finding no hints of green, concluded that it was safe to eat. He broke off a chunk and popped it in his mouth, chewing on it while he retrieved a container of instant noodles from the pantry. He pulled the cord on the noodle container and peeled off the top, watching as the noodles hissed to life. He broke off another piece of cheese and dumped it into the hot container. He fished his chopsticks out of the sink and scooped up a mass of noodles, slurping down the contents. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but at least he was no longer hungry.

Afterwards, he leaned back against the chair, being careful not to lean too heavily. When he had first moved in, he'd learned the hard way, on the back of his head, how unsteady the chair was. He rubbed his head as he remembered, and ruefully thought about his yellow couch on the Bebop, and how much more comfortable it would have been to this chair. He frowned as he realized how often he had been thinking about them lately. He wondered how well they were getting on without him, if they missed him. The dull ache in his chest was hauntingly familiar.

He hated the fact that he missed them.


	3. Lost and Found

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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**Chapter 3. LOST AND FOUND**

The persistent beep from the vidscreen alerted her of an incoming message. Faye roused herself from her nap and stretched her legs, yawning loudly.

"Jet!" she yelled, hoping he'd hear her calling so that she would not have to get up to answer it. When he didn't respond, she huffed and pushed herself up from the couch. She reached over to the vidscreen and pressed the key to display the message.

_29-Jul-72 15:00:4:51_

_Response re inquiry 5584993.33:00_  
_ Indicator sole survivor of Dragon coup_  
_ Name: Spiegel S_  
_ Sex: M_  
_ Height: 6'1_  
_ D.O.B.: 44-Jun-26_  
_ OFFICIAL STATUS: K.I.A. December 8, 2071_  
_ UNOFFICIAL STATUS:_  
_ Possible sighting Mars Tharsis sector 48 Glowing Sun Lounge_  
_ Criminal activity reported in sector 48_  
_ Extreme caution advised_

_End transmission_

"What the- " Faye scrolled back up to the beginning of the message. Then it dawned on her. This was a response to an inquiry that she had made months ago, after the destruction of the Red Dragon's headquarters. She jumped up from the couch and rushed to the bonsai room to tell Jet.

"Jet!" Faye opened the door to the room but Jet wasn't there. She returned to the common room, and it was then that she noticed the slip of paper on top of her cigarettes. She picked it up:

_Gone out. Back later. Don't wait up._

She fished out a cigarette from the pack and lit it, exhaling in frustration and impatience. There was no telling how long it would be before Jet got back, and she really wanted to check out this place; intel like this usually had a small window of opportunity. She considered trying to reach him on his communicator but changed her mind. Grumbling, she snatched up her cigarettes and headed to her room to change.

Faye swung open the door to her closet and pulled out several outfits. She put the red one back, too slutty. She didn't want to cause suspicion and she had learned a hard lesson once upon a time at the opera. She decided that the not-so-innocent look would work best. _Hmmm, this one should do_, she thought and pulled out the dress she had in mind. She slipped into a low-cut black dress, form-fitting to accentuate her figure, and chose a pair of black stilettos to complete her ensemble. Her hair, which had grown out since Spike left, she now tied back with a black ribbon, then draped her red sweater across her shoulders. The red sweater was indispensable to the ensemble; she needed somewhere to put her Glock and the dress was just too short to hide a gun.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she adjusted herself until she was satisfied with the results. Then, just a touch of makeup, not too much lipstick, and she was ready. With a flick of her ponytail, she turned and left the room. On her way to the hangar, she paused, went back to the common to scribble a note beneath Jet's, then headed out to fire up the Red Tail.

o~o~o~

Faye squinted to read the faded name on the building: Glowing Sun Lounge. This was the place. She adjusted the front of her dress to display a little more skin. She pulled open the door and walked in, glancing around the room as all eyes followed her every step. She smiled and made sure to put a little extra sway to her hips as she walked over to the bar and sat down at one of the empty stools.

At the front of the lounge was a small stage area where a quartet played jazz. The bartender was delivering drinks to a customer at the other end of the bar. Faye crossed her legs and waited for him to notice her. When he did, he headed down to her.

"What'll it be, miss?" he asked politely, his eyes meeting hers.

Faye gave him her order along with a sad smile. "The name's Faye," she said. "Whiskey, two cubes."

"Okay … Faye, whiskey on the rocks coming up." He served her quickly, and left to tend to his other customers.

Faye sipped on her drink as she listened to the music. The saxophone reminded her of another time and place that seemed like so long ago, sitting in place much like this one, listening to sad tunes and feeling sorry for herself. . But it was too sad to remember and she did not have time to dwell on that right now. She downed her drink and motioned to the bartender. He acknowledged her and finished with his customer before heading over to her.

"Excuse me … Ronald," she said sweetly, leaning forward, accentuating her ample cleavage as she read the bartender's nametag. She suppressed a smirk as she watched his eyes sweep down then swiftly back up to her face. She pulled out a picture from her red sweater.

"Do you know him?" she asked. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for him."

Ronald's eyes widened as he examined the picture. "Uh … "

"It's alright," Faye told him as she took the picture out of his hand and slid it back in her sweater. "I can see that you do." She sat back and took a dainty sip from her glass. "Everybody thinks that he is such an animal, but …" her eyes swept up to his face and she whispered, "I like him just the way he is, if you know what I mean."

Ronald blushed. Faye smiled and ordered another drink.

o~o~o~

Out of the blue, the door to the lounge swung open and in walked Spike himself.


	4. Reunion

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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**Chapter 4. Reunion**

Spike stepped inside the Glowing Sun and surveyed his surroundings. He picked up an occasional word amidst the buzz of conversation, the click of a cue ball hitting the pocket on the pool table. As he ambled further in, his cybernetic eye easily detected the regulars scattered around the smoke-filled, dimly lit lounge. He caught sight of the waitress Grace moving efficiently and effortlessly through the room taking bar orders. The band was between sets and had parked at one of the round tables in front of the stage, with a pitcher of beer and several overflowing ashtrays.

He looked over at the bar and hesitated when he spotted Faye chatting up the bartender. He couldn't say that he was surprised to see her; word on the street was that someone had been inquiring into his whereabouts, and he had figured that it was either Faye or Jet, since everyone else he knew was dead. Well, except for Doohan, who only found out that he was alive when Spike had contacted him to look after the Swordfish for a while. His current line of work required stealth and his ship would be too conspicuous in the places he needed to go. And besides, he didn't have any desire to go planet-hopping these days.

Still, Faye's presence in his territory was a little unnerving, like an expunged memory that had leaked, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind. Later he would have to hit up Ronald to find out what he and Faye had talked about. But for now he had to deal with her, and he was not looking forward to the meeting. She would probably deck him first, and then ream him out for not contacting her and Jet. He took a deep breath and slid his hands in his pockets before walking over to where she sat.

"Is this seat taken?"

As he waited for Faye to acknowledge him, he quickly took in her appearance. Her hair was longer than he remembered, since that day on the Bebop, tied back in a long, thick ponytail. The black dress she wore was more conservative than her usual attire; it fit her snugly, showing off her tiny waist, the swell of her hips, and more than a little cleavage. Faye was a beautiful woman with a stunning figure, and he'd be lying if he said that he had never noticed. On quite a few occasions he had found himself sneaking a peek when she walked by; if she had ever caught him, he would be dead now for sure.

Faye swiveled in her seat at the sound of his voice, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. If she was shocked to see him, she was doing a damned good job of hiding it.

"So," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You _are_ alive."

"And kicking." He sat down on the stool next to her.

Faye looked around for Ronald and beckoned to him.

"I found him," she gushed when he came over. "He and I have so much to catch up on – do you think you could find us a table where we can talk privately?" She batted her eyes innocently.

Ronald beamed. "Sure thing, miss - Faye. Right this way."

Spike stifled a grin at Faye in action. She always did have a way of getting what she wanted.

Faye picked up her drink and followed the bartender, Spike trailing behind as they were guided to a table tucked away in a corner of the bar. Spike decided to be a gentleman and hold the chair for Faye. She glanced up at him and murmured something before sitting down. A look passed between the two men before Spike sat down opposite Faye and waited for her next move.

"Thank you, Ronald." Faye flashed a brilliant smile at the young man, who blushed before returning to his station.

"Could you be a little more obvious …" Spike mumbled as he watched her performance.

As soon as the bartender was out of sight, Faye turned to him. "What's the matter, jealous?" she asked sweetly, turning her smile up a notch for his benefit.

He snorted. "Yeah, in your dreams …" He picked up her glass and took a sniff. "What are you drinking?"

"Hey!" Faye protested. "That's _mine_." She moved to snatch her drink from his hand, but Spike stopped her, clamping his free hand over hers.

"Aren't we supposed to be … close?" Spike drawled, looking down teasingly as she glared up at him. He lifted the glass to his lips, taking her hand with it, and took a swallow before setting it back down, still holding on to her hand. The warmth from her hand seeped into his skin and he marveled momentarily at how small and fragile her hand seemed compared to his. She slid her hand out from under his and leaned back, watching him with an inscrutable expression in her green eyes.

Spike resisted the urge to fidget under her gaze; instead he picked up her glass again and drained the contents, then reached in his pocket for his cigarettes and Zippo. He shook one out then wordlessly offered her one, but she shook her head. He lit up and inhaled once before finally returning her gaze.

"So, how have you been, Faye?" he asked absently. Her calmness was disconcerting and he wondered just how long it would take to spur her to anger.

She ignored him and gestured to the waitress, who came over immediately.

"Two whiskeys on the rocks. Put them on _his_ tab," she said tersely, inclining her head toward Spike. Her eyes never left his face.

Grace looked at Spike, who gave an almost imperceptible nod, and she disappeared to fill the order.

"_We've_ been fine," she said, her gaze letting him know that she did not miss the exchange. "Jet and I work as a team now, and we've been doing quite well, in case you were wondering." She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and turned away to watch the band, who had returned to the stage to start a new set.

They waited in silence for Grace to return with their drinks. The slow, smoky jazz filled the room. Faye seemed to lose herself in the music, a wistful expression washing over her face. Spike took the opportunity to study her profile. Except for the longer hair, she looked the same. He wondered what she was thinking about that would make her look so sad. Had it really been that long since he'd left them?

For him, the days and hours flowed endlessly from one job to the next. Mars was the place to be for syndicate activity, and when one syndicate disappeared, another took its place. Spike was good at what he did, the best, he told himself, and being the best meant there was no shortage of jobs waiting for him. He was an independent, and he made it abundantly clear to any prospective client that he wanted to keep it that way – no ties to any person or organization. He had had his fill of that.

But, sitting here, watching Faye as she moved her head to the music, catching a trace of scent from her swaying hair, evoked in him a sense of something that he could not identify. He looked down at the hand that had held hers, and impulsively he lifted it to his nose to sniff. His hand smelled like her. He shook his head to clear away the fog that he was being drawn into. These were dangerous thoughts and he needed to get a grip. He pulled on his cigarette so deeply that it burned his throat, and exhaled a series of smoke rings into the air above their table. When he looked back at Faye, her eyes were already on his face, watching him.

"So-" he smirked, intending to ease his discomfort by teasing her.

"When are you coming back to the ship, Spike?" she interrupted, swirling the contents of her drink.

Spike's grin faded and he looked away. "I'm not."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

He took a swig from his glass and glanced at her before answering. "I've closed the book on that part of my life, Faye, and that includes my time on the ship."

He didn't tell her that it had taken him eight months of vacillation and doubt before finally deciding not to go back; that decision had been his alone to make. After all, he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

Faye was silent, her eyes intent on his face.

"Look, Faye," he said, his return gaze unflinching, "No offense, but I didn't exactly need approval from you or Jet."

Faye's gaze was steady and unwavering. "So, just like that, you're giving us up?"

Spike leaned into her face, a mocking smile on his lips. "Last time I saw you, your hearing was pretty sharp." He leaned closer, a long thin finger reaching for her ear. "Has something happened that I should know about?"

She scowled and swatted his hand away. He leaned back in the chair, satisfied that finally he had gotten under her skin.

"How have you been supporting yourself?"

"I make do."

"Doing what." She demanded.

"I had a life before bounty hunting, you know."

"Doing what?" she repeated, glaring at him.

He turned an impassive gaze on her as his eyes slowly scanned her face. "The Red Dragons may be gone, but others are still around." He leaned down until his eyes were level with hers. "I heard that you were asking around about me."

Faye inched away but said nothing.

"When I walked in here earlier," he said coolly, "I could have killed you where you sat, and no one would have said a word." Her face faltered. "So, why don't you just run along back to the ship before you get into any trouble?"

"You're - just like – you really have turned into Vicious, haven't you?" she whispered.

He ignored the barb and smiled cruelly. "You think so?"

She was quiet, concentrating on her drink. Spike could tell that she was trying to think her way out of the situation. He had worked with her long enough to know how she operated. In fact, watching her, he could almost guess what her next move would be.

Sure enough, Faye's demeanor changed subtly. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, her green eyes glittering as she looked into his face. Even knowing what she was up to, his heart skipped a beat at the look she gave him.

"So, aren't you going to show me where you live?"

He rolled his eyes at her, and turned back to his drink.


	5. Stubborn

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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**C****hapter 5. Stubborn**

The band was finishing up the last set, and Grace had just delivered the last round of drinks to their table. Faye was quite adept at observing and imitating people, and Spike was smashed enough to enjoy her antics. The Glowing Sun attracted a rough crowd, and had Faye been there alone or with anyone else other than him, she would have been in trouble. But everyone in this neighborhood knew who Spike was and what he did. Luckily for Faye, no one who valued life wanted to get on his bad side.

By the fifth round of drinks, it was like old times, where both tried to be more sarcastically witty than the other. It was a drinking game that they had often played on the ship, after Jet had retired to his room and Ed had crashed out somewhere on the ship, using Ein as her pillow. Faye's words had started to slur two or three drinks ago, even though she had insisted that he was more smashed than her. Finally, Spike topped off his glass and stood up, holding on to the edge of the table.

"Come on," he said, pulling on her arm. "Time to go."

"Hold your horses," she snapped. "I'm not finished yet."

"I think you are," he said teasingly. "Drink up and let's go."

Faye polished off her glass and tried to stand, holding on to both the table and Spike.

"You alright? You look a little pale."

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not alright. I am plastered," she said, eying the empty glass with sudden loathing, "and if I don't get some fresh air in about ten seconds, I'm going to throw up all over you."

Spike grinned but kept a little distance between them.

"I wouldn't really throw up on you, you know," she protested as he put his hand under her arm to help her stand. She rose to her feet.

"Where're we going?"

"Home."

o~o~o~

Spike pulled out a ring of keys from his jacket and unlocked the door to the apartment. He stood aside and wordlessly beckoned for Faye to step inside. He locked the door behind them and led Faye into the kitchen, just to the right of the apartment entrance. He set the keys down on the kitchen table and draped his jacket over one of the chairs.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he told her as he headed down the hallway to the bathroom. Midway to his destination, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Don't go nosing around, Faye. I'll be right back." He disappeared down the hall.

Faye stuck out her tongue at him, and then giggled to herself at her own childishness.

Hmmph, still thinks he's mister high and mighty. But … when someone tells you not to do something…

She walked into the living room and wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked around. The walls were the washed-out hue of a sky just before the rain and were completely bare except for a light switch that controlled the overhead light. A worn brown sofa sat in the middle of the room with an armchair beside it and a coffee table in front, containing a disgustingly full ashtray and a dog-eared paperback lying open and face down.

_Definitely a guy's place. _She wondered if she were the first woman to set foot inside of Spike's apartment. The possibility that Spike would allow another female access to his private domain bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

Faye thought she knew him better than any other woman, except maybe for Julia who was no longer around, so she didn't really count. When they had been shipmates, he'd been comfortable enough around her to lounge about wearing those tacky orange boxers of his, and she had discovered a few other disgusting habits of his when she'd lived with him.

She picked up the book: _Walking on the Moon_. She recalled seeing him reading that book once on the Bebop. As she thought about it, she had never actually seen him reading the book; he would use it to cover his face and spy on her while pretending to be asleep. _Maybe he does know how to read_, she thought maliciously. She switched the pages around and placed the book back on the coffee table, smiling to herself.

She wandered into the kitchen. Several plastic forks and wooden chopsticks were lined up neatly on the countertop. The chopsticks reminded her that she hadn't eaten since leaving the ship that morning. Spike liked long showers almost as much as she did, so she figured that she'd have plenty of time to peek inside the fridge without getting caught.

As she moved to open the refrigerator door, a warm breath caressed her neck and she squeaked in surprise. She whirled around to find Spike standing behind her with his hands in his pockets and a stupid grin on his face.

"Why you-" she savagely poked his chest with her finger. "What the hell was that, Spike?"

"Just wanted to see if you still had it."

"Had what?" She clamped her hands on her hips and stomped her feet in exasperation, glaring up at him.

His eyes crinked with amusement. "That," he said. "The fire in those green eyes." He pulled a hand out of his pocket to touch her cheek.

She stared up at him, wondering if this was the same Spike who had once inhabited the Bebop. Back then, he would never been so direct, especially with her. This Spike was a handsome stranger who was flirting with her and she felt awkward around him. The Spike she knew was a masochistic bastard who liked playing head games just to see her squirm. She was tempted to punch him, but she controlled the urge; she wasn't ready to unleash her anger on him yet; she was still too relieved to find him alive.

And if she didn't know better, she'd say that he was glad to see her too.

"God, what a dump, Spike," she said, looking for a way to mask her discomfort. "Couldn't you afford anything better than this?"

He shrugged. "Why? I only sleep here."

Faye snorted. "Well, it's the one thing you're good at."

"Don't you want to find out what else I'm good at?" he asked seductively, leaning into her.

She took a couple of steps away from him. "Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed as she strolled back into the living room. She flopped down onto the sofa and kicked off her shoes.

Spike followed her, looking slightly perturbed as he watched her get comfortable. "That's my seat," he grumbled, slumping down in the armchair.

"Deal with it," she told him. "You know, I did a lot of walking around looking for you." She wriggled her bare toes in relief. "The streets of Tharsis are murder on a woman's feet."

Her stomach grumbled and she sat up, twisting towards him. "Spiiike … "

Spike made an exaggerated show of trying to get comfortable, stretching his long legs across the coffee table and crossing his arms across his chest before slowly shifting his gaze to her face.

"What kind of host are you?" Faye asked coyly. "I'm a guest and I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

Faye batted her eyes at him. He grinned in spite of himself.

"Tell you what, because you're so hungry and I'm such a considerate host and all, and since you came all the way down to Mars just to find me -"

Faye interrupted him. "Are you going to feed me or what?"

"Hmmm …" Spike tapped a finger against his chin as he pretended to think about it.

She growled at him.

He finally answered her. "I know a place that delivers." He took out his communicator and punched in a code.

Faye snickered. "Either your memory got sharper since your return from death or you don't cook much."

He scowled at her and turned back to the comm. "Yo, Soo-Ling. Yeah, the usual, but make it for two. How long? Right." A few brief words later, he ended the call, then stood up slowly and turned to Faye. "Want a drink?"

She lit up. "Do you even have to ask?"

"Guess not." Spike walked into the kitchen and took a couple of glasses from the overhead cabinet, then pulled out a bottle of lao chu from the fridge.

"I'm not going to serve you," he called to her.

"That would be too much to ask," Faye muttered. She got up from the sofa and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

"Yeah, it would."

She clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes at him.

He threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Don't you have anything stronger than this?"

Spike pulled out an unopened bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. "Almost forgot about this," he said as he twisted off the cap. "One of the perks of the job."

He handed her the bottle and she poured herself a generous amount. She sat down at the table with the bottle in front of her. Spike sat down next to her and filled his glass.

"You never did say what your job was, Spike."

"You're right, I didn't." He downed the contents of his glass and slid it towards her. "Fill it up?"

She reached to steady the glass, suppressing a shiver as their fingers touched. She filled the glass to the brim and slid it back to him, looking at him as she did so.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked with a smirk.

Faye finished off her own glass, closing her eyes momentarily as the liquid hit her stomach. She set the glass back down and gazed at him mischievously.

"Do you want it to be?" she shot back.

Spike picked up the glass and drained it in one gulp without a grimace. He pushed the glass back to her for another refill, flashing his seductive smile. Faye sniffed haughtily as she poured more alcohol into his glass. A beep from Spike's communicator sounded and he picked up to listen, then disconnected.

"Food's here." He finished off his drink in one gulp. "Spike 3, Faye 2," he said with a smile. "Be right back." He grabbed his keys from the table and left to meet the delivery kid.

Faye scowled. She could cheat and tell him that they were now even, but somehow that lunkhead would know. She refilled her glass. It wouldn't matter; she was much better at holding her liquor than him, anyway.


	6. Onward

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**C****hapter 6. Onward**

Two entrees and one empty whiskey bottle later, they both ended up crashing on the sofa, Faye on one end, her hands across her eyes to block out the light, and Spike at the other with his arm hanging off the sofa onto the floor. The space was pretty tight for two, and Faye shifted into a more comfortable position, accidentally pressing her foot against Spike's torso. He grunted in pain and grabbed hold of her foot, pushing it back towards her.

"_Stop_, Spike, my legs are cramped," she grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle out of his grasp. He refused to let go, wagging his index finger towards her foot.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

He laughed at her before letting go.

This camaraderie, without disagreement or arguments between them was rare, but Faye had not spent all of those months searching for him, just to cuddle on the sofa. After all, her visit did have a purpose. Jet had told her once that both she and Spike were the types who used sheer force or violence to try to get what they wanted, when sometimes a gentler approach garnered better results. Jet must have been right, because this cautious approach was not working. She shifted again.

"Spike, when you left …"

He seemed to cringe as she prepared to question him.

"I really don't want to talk about this, Faye."

"You never want to talk about anything serious," she snapped. "Well, guess what? You owe us some answers. Why the hell couldn't you let us know you were alive?"

"First off, "he said icily, "I don't owe you or Jet a damned thing."

A cold heat rose up to her face. She took a deep breath, then slammed her foot into his chest. He sat up abruptly, bringing his feet to the floor, looking at her with fire in his eyes. She eyed him warily and scooted further away.

"Second," he continued, "It was better if I didn't come back."

"Better for who? You, so that you wouldn't have to fill us in on your 'secret' life?"

Spike's eyebrow twitched. "No." he answered in the same tone. "Better, to keep you and Jet from being gunned down because of me."

As she searched his face, a terrible fatigue overcame over her and she sagged back against the sofa. The sounds of street traffic filtered through the open window, and she pressed her fingers against her eyelids to quiet an impending headache. Spike was immune to noise, able to fall asleep anywhere and any time regardless of what was going on.

"When I woke up, I was in a hospital."

She turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

"They told me that I had been unconscious for almost three months. My … injuries were so severe that they didn't know if I was going to make it." He finally looked over to meet her eyes. "After I was released, I wandered back to my old haunting grounds, trying to find out what had happened with the Dragons." He picked up the cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one, exhaling the smoke towards her. She breathed in, too proud to snatch up the pack as she would have done in the past. He was in a mood to talk, and she didn't want to be the one to spoil the mood. Spike held out the pack to her, and she suppressed her surprise and took one, nodding her thanks. He flicked the lighter and lit her cigarette, then sat back and clasped his hands behind his head, stretching his long legs across the coffee table.

They smoked in silence for a while. Faye tapped her foot lightly against the carpet, determined to wait him out. Spike's eyes were half closed, and the cigarette was burning down between his fingers. _Hmph_, she thought,_ if he's really asleep, he'll wake up when he feels his finger burned_. Then, without cracking an eyelid, he leaned a long arm towards the coffee table to flick the ash. She narrowed her eyes.

"So, are you going to finish telling me what happened?" she demanded.

He opened one eye to look at her. "Just hold on, whose story is this, anyway?"

She bit back a response until the corner of his mouth quirked.

"Don't make fun of me," she growled. "I really do want to know."

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk morphing into a full blown smile.

She glared at him. "Come on, spit it out."

His smile faded and he looked away. "I found out that I had succeeded in wiping out the Dragons," he said as he stared up at the ceiling. "So there I was, finally free after all those years, and what do I do? Find another syndicate to work for. But this time, it was on my terms."

"If you were free, why did you go back?" She regarded him curiously. "You had the chance to do anything, go anywhere you wanted, and you went back? Why?"

"It's the only thing I know."

"You could have come back, picked up where you left off with me … and Jet."

"Yeah, I could have. But I didn't want to go back to that life." He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, then picked up the pack and immediately lit another. "Besides, I got tired of not having meat in my diet. Or cigarettes in my pocket." He blew out a mouthful of smoke.

Faye scowled at him and looked away. She wanted to ask him if he missed the companionship that they'd had as shipmates and bounty hunters. And he still hadn't told her what it was that he did for a living.

"So, I guess your new occupation is quite lucrative," she murmured.

"Yeah, you could say that."

Her green eyes glittered. "Spike, just tell me what it is you do," she said, poking him in the chest.

Spike cocked his head to the side as he shot her a wide-eyed, innocent look. "Let's just say that the planet is a little safer with my help."

"Will you ever come back?"

He was silent.

"Spike?"

"No."

"Not even …"

"What?"

She turned her back on him and stared out of the window.

He sighed. "Faye."

She ignored him. He reached over and grasped her chin, turning her face towards him. Her stomach fluttered at the touch of his fingers. She couldn't remember him ever touching her before, so gentle, like he cared. She forced herself to breathe calmly.

"Would you -" he began, then seemed to think better of it and released her.

She gazed at him questioningly, her hand absently tracing the spot where his fingers had been.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She hated when he clammed up like that, his eyes hooded with hidden secrets, like shutters closing on a window. It was like watching a walking dead man, turning to ghost ashes before her eyes. "Don't do that," she said, jabbing her finger into his chest so hard that he cringed. "You always used to do that on the ship," she pointed upwards towards space, "and I let you get away with it, but not this time. So, tell me what it is that you want to know?"

He studied her for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally.

She stared at him, turning her mouth into a pout. She got up and paced around the room, then stopped at the coffee table and grabbed his pack of cigarettes, jamming one in her mouth. "You're nothing but trouble," she mumbled and the cigarette moved up and down with her words.

"Those are mine," he said calmly.

Faye let out a big huff. She took a long drag before turning back to him. "I guess you're waiting for me to speak first, huh? What, do you want to know why I spent so much time looking for you when it was obvious that you were either six feet under or avoiding us?" She started pacing the room again, smoking furiously.

"I didn't say-"

"We were comrades, you know," she interrupted him. "Even if you didn't feel it, I did. I finally found a place where I belonged, with you and Jet and Edward. Even the damned dog." She stopped pacing and looked back at him. "Don't tell me you never felt it."

Spike sighed. "Okay, so I did, you satisfied?"

Faye threw her hands in the air. "There! Was that so fucking hard to say?" She returned to the sofa and flopped down next to him. "Spike, you're a real piece of work."

"So I've been told."

She turned towards him, ready to give him another lecture about friends, but stopped when she looked at him. _Who cares what an idiot he still is_, she thought. _At least he's alive. _"I'm tired of arguing," she said. "Let's just watch a movie or something."

She leaned across the table to flick on the vidscreen, then settled back against the couch, curling her legs under her as she switched the channels. She was done with him for now.

o~o~o~

Spike was amazed at how easily Faye could switch from slightly pissed to raving mad to nonchalance in the blink of an eye. He thought he was the only one that could pull that off. But then she started going on about how comrades were supposed to work together and check in with each other, watch each other's back, yadda yadda. _She talks too damned much. _He started tuning her out although his eyes followed her around the room as she ranted. He didn't know what had come over him when he had held her face in his hands. He had never been that close long enough to notice the porcelain smoothness of her skin, or to notice that there were flecks of hazel in her green eyes.

He turned his attention back to the present and the movie playing on the screen. He remembered watching this back on the Bebop. Faye and Jet loved this movie, but he didn't see what was so fascinating. The life depicted was a picnic compared to the reality of life with the Dragons. He sat back, trying to maintain interest, but after a while his eyes glazed over, and not too long afterward, he was dead to the world.

o~o~o~

Faye watched Spike's eyes close as he nodded off, just as she had predicted he would. He'd never been able to stay awake on a full stomach, especially when combined with liquor.

She turned back to the fight scene playing over the vid screen. This used to be one of her favorite films, but ever since he had encountered the real deal at the opera house with Vicious, scenes like the one on the screen looked staged. She switched off the power and looked over at Spike, whose legs were splayed across the coffee table, his head flung back against the back of the sofa and his mouth slightly ajar. At any moment now the snoring would begin; she grinned when sure enough, the first gurgle emitted from his throat. She studied his face, noticing things that hadn't been there a year ago - the lines around his mouth, a small scar that cut across his right brow. She tapped her foot impatiently; she would not allow herself to get sucked into feeling for him again.

_Enough of this, Faye_, she admonished herself. She was restless; maybe she could find a card game to push her way into. She had spied a numbers joint on the walk over to the apartment earlier. She looked around for her red sweater, spotting it crushed between Spike and the sofa cushion. Holding her breath, she gently pulled it free, being careful not to wake the baby. As she draped it over her shoulders, she contemplated borrowing Spike's keys. _Nah_, _He'll just have to let me back in._ Spike's money card was next to his keys; she slipped it into her pocket as she tiptoed to the door. She let herself out, quietly closing the door behind her.


	7. Saving Grace

**Chapter 7. Saving Grace**

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

_Warning: this chapter contains mature elements. You won't like Spike here._

* * *

Once she was outside, Faye breathed a sigh of relief. She looked to her left and decided that it was too dark and too quiet for her restless mood. She looked in the opposite way which had to be the downtown, there were enough bright lights to flood the sky, and the traffic seemed to be heading that way, so she knew that was where she wanted to go. She started off in that direction, walking briskly with a sense of purpose.

When she reached the downtown merchant section, she slowed to a leisurely pace and strolled along the avenue, peering into the shops, pausing occasionally to look closer at a window display. She loved dressing up, even though there were very few occasions to wear fancy clothes. In her mind, you could never have too many dresses as you never knew when you might need to make a dramatic entrance. One such dress caught her eye, and she stopped to stare at an evening gown in the display window of Cosette's Boutique. The dress was a rich, dark burgundy in luxurious velvet, and she knew immediately that she wanted it. It was her kind of dress, the kind that would accentuate her figure and turn a lot of heads. Faye chewed on her bottom lip as she fingered the money card in her pocket, wondering how many woolongs were on it. Judging by the décor in Spike's place, she could guess that there wouldn't be much, but there was only one way to find out. She hesitated only for a moment before she opened the door to the shop and stepped inside.

The boutique was empty save for the shop keeper straightening a rack of dresses in the middle of the floor. He looked up when Faye came in.

"May I help you miss?" the shop keeper asked pleasantly, his eyes glancing over the outfit that Faye was wearing.

Faye was glad that she had worn the expensive black dress, which she had worn mainly to impress Spike. She knew that she looked good in it; now it appeared to have another useful purpose.

"Yes, you can." she said, giving the shop keeper a lofty smile. "I would like to purchase that dress in the window."

Faye turned towards the shop entrance, gesturing to the dress in the window. "But I don't know if my … husband has given me the right card." She turned back to the owner and gave him a dazzling smile. "Would you be so kind as to check the woolongs on my card?"

The shop keeper smiled back at the beautiful woman before him. "Of course, madam."

Faye handed him the card and ambled around the shop, picking up things and setting them on the counter to purchase as if she had the money to buy them. A few minutes later, the shop keeper returned with her card. Faye waited expectantly.

"Miss, I do not think that you will have any problems buying anything in the shop."

Faye raised an eyebrow.

"Your husband is a very generous man. You have over 200 million on this card."

Faye suppressed a gasp and turned on a sexy smile before walking over to the lingerie section. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute as her suspicions about what Spike did for money were confirmed. She couldn't believe it. Defiantly she decided to play up the role of wife of her "generous husband" and spend as much of his money as she could. An hour later, she had finished shopping, her bags filled with the most expensive clothing that Cosette's Boutique had to offer. And she had only used up half the woolongs on Spike's card.

The traffic had thinned considerably since Faye had entered the shop. She headed back in the direction of Spike's apartment. Her hands ached a little from the weight of her bags, and she wished that she had gotten the shop keeper to call a taxi for her.

She was near the sector where Spike lived when she heard the footsteps behind her. She listened intently, not breaking her pace, and felt a slight chill at the back of her neck. She was being followed. She pressed her elbow against her torso, reassured that her Glock was still in her sweater. She hoped that she would not have to use it; she really liked the things that she had bought with Spike's money and didn't like the thought that she might have to leave the bags behind.

She slowed for a moment to listen, pretending to adjust the weight of the bags in her hands. The footsteps also slowed, and when she started walking again, the steps behind her resumed, but they seemed to be closer than before.

She whirled around and came face to face with her stalker. He was tall and very sturdily built, and her heart sank as she realized that she would never be able to take him down. She just hoped that his brawny build meant that he was slow witted, because she would have to rely on her wits and some quick thinking to get out of this situation.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded as she looked up into his steely eyes, her harsh words masking her unease.

The man stared down at her, his eyes brazenly appraising her, stopping as they reached her chest. For a fleeting moment, Faye recalled Spike's caution not to wander around his neighborhood. She had thought that he was being his usual controlling and insufferable self; now she realized that his warning words had been for her safety.

"You looking for a good time, babe?"

The man's eyes continued to rove down her body, and Faye suppressed the urge to smash her fist in his face. She needed to keep her wits about her. She faked a giggle and hoped that the man was too stupid to notice.

"I really need to get home before my boyfriend finds out I've been out shopping again," she said airily, shifting her bags to her left hand so that her shooting hand was free to reach her gun.

"What's your name, babe?" the man asked as he moved closer to her.

"Faye," she answered sweetly, shifting her arm closer to her side.

"Pretty name, Faye," he leered down at her. "Handon here."

Faye's heart sank as the name and face of her attacker finally registered. Handon Rives, featured just a few days before on the resurrected show Big Shots. Handon Rives, wanted for rape and burglary. Last known location: Tharsis, Mars.

Faye really wished now that she had listened to Spike. She reached into her jacket to pull out her Glock.

The man moved suddenly, grabbing her arm and preventing her from getting a grasp on her weapon. He twisted her arm behind her as he pulled her towards a darkened alley. Faye tried to sweep her legs across him to push him off balance, but he was a step ahead of her. He grabbed her other arm and pushed her to the concrete, her bags scattering to the ground.

Faye tried to twist out of his grasp. Rives gripped her wrist tighter to prevent her from moving. She was strong, but he was stronger and bigger. Even though Faye felt herself losing the battle, she refused to give in and she drew in a few ragged breaths to try harder. It was no use. Rives pulled her hands together into one large fist and with the other hand and his knee shoved her legs apart, easily holding her in place. He pulled out a knife and sliced it across her panties, and they fell away from her body. Faye realized that she was not going to be able to stop him, and she tried to accept the futility of her struggle. As Rives hovered above her, she closed her eyes and tried to close her mind off from what was happening.

The click of a gun brought her back to the present. When she opened her eyes and looked up, Spike was standing there, still and imposing as a marble statue.

"Get off of her," he said quietly, eyes cold as ice.

Rives hesitated as he stared into the barrel of the Jericho.

"Hey man, relax; you can have a go at her when I'm done." He laughed and turned back to Faye.

"I said get off her," Spike repeated, taking the safety off of the gun.

Rives paused again but did not turn around, instead reaching into his pants. Spike moved forward, and pushed the gun against Rives ahead.

"Look- " Rives started to speak, but he never got the chance to finish because Spike pulled the trigger.

Rives' body dropped onto Faye in a heap. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. She lifted her hands to heave his body away from her but his dead weight was too heavy for her to budge. Then Spike was there, lifting a heavy boot and roughly shoving Rive's body off of her and onto the concrete. Faye scooted into a half sitting position and pulled her dress down to cover herself. She felt ashamed at having being caught in a compromising position by, of all people, Spike. Still, she was relieved beyond belief that he had shown up.

She braced herself and tried to stand, but her legs were trembling so much that she found herself back on the ground. Spike leaned down and gripped her arm as he helped her up, and held her close to him for a minute until her shaking eased. She slid her hand away from his arm and wrapped her arms around herself, relieved that the ordeal was over. Something warm and sticky trickled down her elbow and she rubbed her arm roughly as she replayed the memory of Rives toppling on top of her, his brain matter splattering over her dress. She knew that she would never wear it again. She felt completely exposed even though her body was clothed, and she shivered audibly even though the night was warm and murky.

Spike was searching the area for her things and had found her discarded panties, which he stuffed into his pants pocket. He looked over at Faye and noticed her shivering, and he took off his jacket and walked over to her, wordlessly handing it to her.

She mumbled her thanks and slid her arms into the sleeves, noticing that it was still warm from his body heat. She pulled the jacket closer, her hands holding the sides to keep it closed. Spike gathered up the packages that she had dropped. He started walking and she followed close behind him, her head bowed, as they headed down the darkened street towards his apartment.

Faye's thoughts were racing through her brain in a jumbled kaleidoscope but her body felt like it was moving underwater. Her ears thrummed with a loud buzzing and she forced herself to breathe deeply to keep the panic from setting in. She didn't notice until too late that Spike had stopped abruptly and she put out her hand to keep from crashing into him.

"Need some help back there, Romani?" he teased as he looked back at her.

Faye heard him but she didn't answer.

"Hey Romani, you okay?"

She looked up to find him scrutinizing her, his eyes displaying a look of concern that was quickly masked.

She nodded.

He reached over and gripped her hand. She tensed, unsure of his purpose.

"You're a little slow moving, aren't you?" he murmured. "Come on, let's get you inside."

He continued forward, leading her like a mother would a child, until finally they reached his apartment building. They trudged up to the second floor, him still holding onto her hand. When they reached the apartment door, he released her hand and unlocked the apartment, ushering her inside.

o~o~o~

Faye walked into the living room in a daze, and lowered herself onto the sofa. Spike in the kitchen, opening cabinets and fiddling with something. She looked around the room. Its familiarity along with Spike's presence, made her feel safe.

Spike returned with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses which he sat down on the coffee table. He filled a glass and handed it to her.

"Here, drink."

She sniffed the contents before raising the glass to her lips, swallowing the liquid. She took a deep breath as she felt the slow burn all the way to her stomach. She handed the glass back.

"More?"

She shook her head.

"What – Romani turning down free drinks?"

She glanced up at him quickly. "No, I… no," she said softly, looking away from him.

He set her glass on the coffee table and filled his own glass, finishing it before picking up his cigarettes from the coffee table. He lit one and handed it to her before sitting down next to her and lighting up another for himself. They sat together, not talking. Spike refilled the glasses, draining his. Faye's glass remained untouched.

"You going to finish that?" he asked, looking down at her.

She picked up the glass obediently and took a sip, not looking at him.

"Faye … "Spike reached over and took her chin, forcing her to look at him. This time he did not try to mask the worry in his eyes.

"Did he – "

"No, you got there before he -" She turned away quickly, her chin sliding out of his hand. She took another sip from her glass and fiddled with the rim.

"Do you need to … to take a shower?" he asked quietly.

Faye shook her head. "Not right now."

Spike stood up from the sofa and paused before her, as if unsure of what to say.

"Well, I need to." He headed towards the bathroom. "Don't smoke all my cigarettes."

Her eyes followed him as he left. _He always takes a shower after he kills someone_, she remembered. She wasn't used to him showing any emotion other than annoyance or indifference towards her, and she had felt a little trapped under his concern. When she heard the shower start as he turned on the water, she relaxed a little, taking a small sip from her glass before throwing caution to the wind and downing the entire contents. She breathed in deeply as the liquid hit her empty stomach, and she instantly regretted her hasty action. She went into the kitchen to eat some of the leftover rice from dinner, and immediately felt better. She poured herself a little more bourbon and took larger sips, eventually feeling the effects of the alcohol.

She sat back on the sofa and let her head fall back against the cushions. She felt drained, as though years rather than mere hours had passed since she had left the Bebop that morning. She slid Spike's jacket from her shoulders and examined her dress, fingering the spaghetti strap that Rives had ripped away. It had been one of her favorite dresses. She sighed and pulled the jacket back over her shoulders.

The shower had stopped, and she tensed when the door to the bathroom opened. She wasn't sure if she was ready to deal with Spike just yet, but it was his apartment, after all. He walked into the room clad only in a towel around his waist and went immediately for his cigarettes, water from his hair dripping onto the coffee table. She tried not to look at his bare chest, which was still damp from his shower, but wonder overcame her fear and she gaped at the thick scar that ran from his abdomen to his hip. Her eyes widened as she realized just how close to death he had come. He noticed her stare.

"Yeah." He laughed mirthlessly. "Vicious really did a number on me."

"How did you survive that?" she asked, glancing up at him.

He shrugged. "Beats me." He put the cigarette between his lips, not bothering to light it. "Just lucky, I guess." He leaned over slightly, scrutinizing her. "You should probably take a shower now. There's some grey gunk in your hair."

Faye jumped up from her seat and her hands flew up to her head as she looked up at Spike in horror.

He grinned at her. "Don't worry, there's plenty of hot water left."

She rushed into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, turning the water on to as hot as she could withstand. She gingerly stepped inside the shower under the water, and didn't relax until she felt the stream of water filtering through her hair. She scrubbed every portion of her body, watching the soapy water swirl down the drain. She felt squeamish as she recalled the splatter of what she had thought was blood hitting her face.

When she finally felt clean enough, she stepped out of the shower and went to reach for a towel, but froze when she realized that she hadn't gotten one from Spike. She opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked out.

"Spike!" She waited breathlessly for him to answer.

A few short minutes later he appeared.

"What's wrong?"

She looked up at him through the crack in the door. "I need a towel."

He looked at her in surprise, then down at himself. He was still clad in the towel. He appeared to be thinking, then wordlessly he unwrapped the towel from around his waist and handed it to her, a grim look on his face.

Faye swallowed and kept her eyes on his face, too embarrassed to look anywhere else.

"Thanks," she muttered. Heart pounding, she clenched the towel and shut the bathroom door. She wrapped herself in the towel then walked over to the sink to look at her face in the mirror. The burning color on her cheeks was fading to a dull flush. She leaned back against the door wearily, wondering if the faintness she felt was from the steamy room or the bourbon, or the stares that she was unaccustomed to getting from Spike.

She remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and she forced herself to focus. She wrapped the towel around her dripping hair and rubbed vigorously until her hair was dry. She looked in the medicine cabinet, hoping that Spike owned a brush.

To her surprise he did, and she brushed through her thick tresses to loosen the knots she had created from drying it so roughly. Finally satisfied, from habit she looked on the toilet seat for her clothes and froze when she realized that she had nothing to change into. She dreaded having to call him again.

Wrapping the towel around her, she opened the door a crack, listening for Spike. It was quiet, so he must have gone out. Faye crept across the hall to the bedroom, and slipped inside the room. Before he got back, she would find something of his to wear, so that she wouldn't have to ask him and watch him look her up and down before deciding to answer.

She went over to the dresser and opened the top drawer, where Spike always kept his t-shirts. She let her towel drop to the floor as she grabbed one and lifted it to slip over her head. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Spike cleared his throat behind her. In her haste, she had left the door ajar and now Spike was leaning against it, clad in training pants and shirtless. Faye pulled the t-shirt down hastily, once again feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"You need something?" he asked, his eyes quickly straying down her body before returning to her face.

"Obviously," she said haughtily. "I needed to borrow some of your clothes."

Spike bowed to her, sweeping his hand across the air towards the dresser. "Don't let me stop you," he smirked. "You've never asked before, why should now be any different?"

"I have never borrowed any of your things," Faye protested with a frown.

"Sure you have."

"When?" she asked. "Name one time."

Spike tapped his finger against his chin as he thought for a moment. "Hmm, let's see." He looked back at her with a grin on his face. "On Ganymede when you slipped and fell off the dock, remember?"

Faye remembered and she smiled to herself as she recalled the ridiculousness of the situation.

They were on Ganymede because Jet wanted to relax for a few days, much to the protest of the crew, except for Ed, who didn't mind at all. Faye grudgingly decided to make the best of the situation and work on her tan while they were stuck there, since Jet was the only one with woolongs, and he wasn't sharing. Spike figured he might as well give the Swordfish a good washing since there was nothing else to do, and anyway, as long as there was food in the fridge, he could deal with it. Ed hung out with Jet on the dock, their bare feet hanging over the edge as they fished, looking the perfect picture of father and daughter. Faye was laid out in the sun in her bikini and sunglasses, and as the sun would move across the sky, she would move her chair with it, trying to eke out as the last bit of rays before sundown. Her last chair move, however, was a slight bit too close to the Swordfish and the dock's edge, and when she got up, she slipped on the wet dock right into the water. Spike couldn't stop laughing and she got so pissed off that she stomped away and into the Bebop, straight to Spike's room to borrow one of his shirts. As a last thought, she threw her wet towel on his bed as a parting gift.

She looked up at Spike with a faint smile. "OK, so that one time."

Spike cocked his head at her. "Want me to name a few other times?"

Faye growled, her annoyance overcoming her embarrassment. Spike threw his hands up and backed away from her in mock fear. He looked so ridiculous that Faye could not help but laugh.

"Spike?" Faye asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Get the hell out."

Spike gave her a crooked grin and winked before he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Faye stared at the closed door. The evening was wearing on her, and as her adrenalin level dropped back to normal levels, she found that she could barely keep her eyes open. She eyed the bed in contemplation, then pulled the blanket off and wrapped herself in it. She left the room and headed into the living room. Spike was seated at the kitchen table, his gun dismantled as he cleaned it. He looked up as Faye came in before turning back to his task.

Faye walked over to the couch, then curled up and went to sleep.

o~o~o~

She woke up suddenly and sat up. The room was dark and for a moment she forgot where she was and she could feel panic rise within her. She took a deep breath and looked around the room until she recognized that she was at Spike's. She lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. At every sudden noise, she would jump and open her eyes to look around again. Finally, she sat up and pulled the blanket closer to her. The quiet and unfamiliar noises were making her jumpy and she knew she would not be able to get back to sleep in the room alone. Spike's room door was closed, so he must have already gone to bed. Faye rubbed her eyes in exhaustion and stood up. She padded down the hall to Spike's room and knocked softly, then opened the door a crack.

He was spread out across the bed, one leg on top of the covers.

"Spike?"

There was no answer from him. Faye tiptoed over to the bed and touched him tentatively.

o~o~o~

His eyes shot open as he awakened to a light touch on his face, sending a tingling thrill through him knowing that it had to be Faye.

"It's me." her voice drifted to his ears. "I couldn't sleep on your lumpy couch." She pushed at his shoulder. "Move over."

"I have a feeling that sleep is now out of the question," Spike responded drowsily as he scooted over to make room for her, "especially now that you're here taking up my sleeping space…"

Faye ignored him and slid between the covers into the space he made for her.

He watched her, remembering her scent and how she'd felt in his arms for those fleeting moments. He leaned in to refresh his memory. She shifted, feeling his eyes on her.

"Stop staring at me," she said, pushing his head away, a tremor in her voice. He caught her hand and pulled her to him.

"It's a pity neither of us can sleep," he said softly.

She looked up and saw the innocent smile contradicting the undisguised hunger in his eyes. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue probing, as he kissed her languidly, aroused by the feeling of her skin against his and the soft moans that she made. He explored the contours of her body, slipping his hand underneath her shirt.

Faye tensed, and looked at him uncertainly. His eyes were closed and his hands did not cease.

"Spike," she said softly, pushing his hand away.

"Huh?" He looked up at her in confusion. He didn't want her to stop him, he was aroused and he wanted her.

Faye took a deep, shaky breath and edged away from him. _You're playing with fire, Faye. You're only going to get burned._

"Faye-Faye?" He said playfully, lifting her chin gently. "Look at me," he commanded.

She raised her head to look at him doubtfully. He leaned down and kissed her softly. She drew in a shaky breath, and looked up at him, reaching up to touch his cheek. He wrapped his hands around her waist and leaned in to kiss her again. She raised her arms to circle his neck, her fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. His hands tightened on her waist and he slid them up her sides to her breasts, his thumbs lightly caressing her nipples through the shirt.

Her breath hitched as he leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking it through the thin shirt. A moan escaped from her lips as she closed her eyes and squirmed against him.

Spike didn't need any further encouragement. He reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it roughly up over her head, tossing it to the floor before returning to her breasts. He bit down lightly on a nipple and Faye growled, reaching down to push his head away. He chuckled against her skin and soothed his bite with a soft kiss, then drew warm wet circles with his tongue.

Spike slid his hands up her arms in gentle caresses, drawing circles across her palms and entwining her small hands in his. Then he slid down to her wrists, trapping them in his hands as he raised her arms above her head to pin her to the bed.

Faye's eyes flew open.

"That hurts, Spike," she protested as she attempted to pull out of his grip, but his hands tightened around her as he rose up on his knees and looked at her with a malicious grin. He bent down to kiss her neck, oblivious to her wishes.

"Let go of me," she said forcefully and tried twisting away, but he refused to budge. He forced her thighs apart with his leg and dropped down on his elbows, moving his pelvis against her. Faye could felt the heat from his erection, and she realized with horror that he was about to subject her to the very ordeal that he had saved her from.

She closed her eyes.

o~o~o~

The only thing that she became aware of was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Spike's harsh breathing. She bit her lip and clenched the sheet to keep from crying out. Finally, after a strangled shout, he collapsed onto her and she felt the warm rush of his release.

He withdrew from her and rolled onto his back, trembling and panting for breath. Faye drew shaky breaths as she turned away from him and curled herself into the pillow, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, tears that refused to fall.

The room was quiet except for Spike's breathing which gradually turned into soft snores as he fell asleep.

o~o~o~

Spike groaned as hunger woke him. He flipped over onto his stomach, stretching out a long arm across the bed. He froze when his hand made contact with something warm and soft. He looked to the right at the small lump under the covers, and his stomach clenched as a flashback to the previously evening pounded his memory.

He lay back down, turning his head to watch the sleeping figure next to him. She was turned away from him, her hair spread across the pillow in silky disarray. Careful not to awaken her, he extended his hand to touch her hair softly, feeling the silky strands slip through his fingers. His throat constricted and he blinked against the pain.

Her presence in his room, in his bed reminded him of something that Vicious had said to him once long ago, that he was a beast that had lost his fangs. He had fought that part of himself for so long that he had convinced himself that he had changed. Now he realized that Vicious had been right all along.

Guess my fangs have grown back.

He pulled his hand away and focused on the rise and fall of her shoulders as she slept, before finally dozing off again. A couple of hours later, he woke up again when the hunger pangs reached unbearable proportions. He glanced over to where Faye lay, then quietly sat up and edged his way off the bed, trying not to awaken her. He jumped when, from behind him, she spoke.

"Don't bother. Your stomach already woke me up."

He turned around sharply to see Faye stirring, clutching the bed sheet around her.

"Oh," he mumbled.

He tried not to stare, but her shapely figure was quite visible even covered with the sheet. In past times, early morning was his favorite time for a treat before breakfast, but he supposed that this wouldn't count. He dragged his fingers through his hair as he pulled his eyes away. He started towards the kitchen, then stopped and turned to look at her. She was sitting up and was staring at him with an unreadable expression that made him uncomfortable.

"You hungry?" he asked reluctantly, shifting his gaze to anywhere but her face. He didn't want to see the hurt and accusation in her eyes.

She shook her head and looked down, her hair falling into her face and obscuring her eyes. She fiddled nervously with her hands before getting up, protectively wrapping the sheet around her body.

Spike turned around and continued to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and looked inside, cursing himself for not buying groceries the day before. He pulled out one of the leftover containers from their dinner and threw them into the microwave. From behind him he heard Faye shuffle into the kitchen. He watched the containers turning in the microwave.

"Spike- "

He reluctantly turned around to face her.

"I want to take a shower," she said, avoiding his eyes. "I need a towel."

"Oh."

He pulled a clean towel from the pantry and gave it to her.

She took it and stood for a moment, twisting the edges of the towel in her hands.

"By the way … "

He looked at her questioningly. She was staring at him again.

"You should change the sheets."

He nodded. She continued down the hall to the bathroom.

Once Spike heard the shower running, he went into the bedroom to strip the bed. As he neared the bed, he saw the damp stain mixed with semen and blood – Faye's blood. Stifling a gag, he dragged the sheets from the mattress, then balled them up and threw them in the corner of the room. He fumbled with the cigarette pack on the nightstand and lit one, wanting to erase his sense of guilt with each inhale.

Even though they both had had quite a lot to drink the night before, his memory of the events were etched quite clearly in his memory. He remembered how fragile her wrists felt when he held her down, the smell of her hair when his chest came into contact with hers, the intensely pleasurable sensation as he pounded away inside her and the utter exhaustion when he finally collapsed on top of her. He never considered that all the while he was hurting her.

o~o~o~

They stood together at the railing overlooking the harbor, neither speaking. In the distance the foghorn of a trawler pierced the ambient sounds of morning traffic on the river and from the streets of Tharsis. Spike wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, but he could think of nothing to say.

"I hate you," she said fiercely, squeezing her eyes closed as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Spike was silent. From the corner of his eye, he watched her struggle to keep her emotions under control. He didn't know what to say to her. Finally, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a matchbook from the Glowing Sun.

"Faye," he said softly.

She ignored him, staring stonily ahead.

"Faye, if you ever need to reach me ..." he reached over and grabbed her hand, placing the matchbook in her palm.

Her hand closed on the matchbook, and she fingered it in her hand for a moment before stretching out her arm and letting it drop into the river, watching it float away. Spike clenched his jaw, but his body remained motionless, and his heart pounded in pain as Faye looked up into his face, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

"I never want to see you again."

She turned and walked away.


	8. Intermezzo

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 8. Intermezzo**

He sits absolutely still, looking across the Tharsis, squinting as he tries to make out the vehicles speeding around the circles of the freeway. He wonders where they could be going in such a hurry. But that was the atmosphere of Tharsis, rushing, bustling, making deals, rushing headlong to nowhere. Just like him.

_I hate you._

All the things she said keep running through his head. He closes his eyes but he cannot block out her image, her face, the hurt in her eyes.

_I hate you._

He raises a cigarette to his mouth and lights it, inhaling the acidic smoke deep into his lungs. He welcomes the burning pain. He smiles as he blows the smoke out letting the wind carry it away, just like he wishes it would carry away the image of those green eyes that haunt him…

_I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._


	9. Another Time, Another Place

I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of the song lyrics quoted.

* * *

**Chapter 9. Another Time, Another Place**

_Show me what it's like  
To be the last one standing  
And teach me wrong from right  
And I'll show you what I can be  
Say it for me  
Say it to me  
And I'll leave this life behind me  
Say it if it's worth saving me_

The drone of the vidscreen alerted him to the fact that he had fallen asleep in front of it. It had been a few days since his last job, and he was tired of waiting. Normally, the jobs came in fast and furious, leaving him little time to dwell on anything except for the basics of living: eat, shower, sleep, play pool, sleep. Too much idle time was driving him a little insane, and for a fleeting moment, he regretted that the Swordfish was housed on Earth instead of here on Mars. Even his familiar prostrate position on the couch was beginning to annoy him.

From the window came the sound of rain pelting heavily against the glass. He hated rain. The murmur of voices and the squeak of mattress springs from the apartment next to his drifted through the thin walls. He knew what was coming next; he turned up the volume on the vidscreen to muffle the sound, and reached down to pick up the paperback book that lay on the floor.

Spike opened his book and looked at the yellowed cover wearily. On the cover was a picture of a tall, long-legged kid with a lopsided grin and the clear eyes of a dreamer. The picture reminded him of a younger version of himself, long ago. He dropped the book back on the floor.

He picked up the cigarette pack lying on the coffee table, groaning when he opened the box to find it empty. He stood up slowly, stretching his long limbs into action and walked into the kitchen. He picked up his shirt from the chair and shrugged into it, leaving the buttons undone. His eyes scanned the room, lighting on the faded Bruce Lee poster taped on the wall.

He trudged down the hallway to the bathroom. He clicked on the light, relieved himself, aiming a line across the rim of the bowl in a moment of childish play. He walked slowly back into the living room to finish getting dressed, lost in thought.

_There is one thing I will never understand … ...and that one thing...is women. I love them like I love meat in my bell peppers. They smell good. They look nice, they sound nice. They feel nice … but I don't understand them. _

His thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the communicator. He picked it up from the coffee table and looked at the screen as Ronald's face came into view.

"Yo."

"Got something for you."

Spike listened impassively as Ronald gave him the rundown.

"How much?"

"Two hundred million."

Spike pondered for a moment the high figure. The job would be more difficult than the usual ones. Not that he really cared, it wasn't as if he really needed the money, he had more than enough money already that he didn't use. And he was starting to believe that nothing could kill him.

"So, you in?"

"Yeah."

He disconnected the call. He trudged into the kitchen to grab his jacket hanging over the kitchen chair. He donned the jacket, checking his pockets for his keys before letting himself out of the apartment. He needed to replenish his nicotine.

As he headed down the darkened hallway towards the stairwell, Wanda, the young girl who lived in the apartment a couple of doors down from his, was coming in the opposite direction. She almost bumped into him, but she stopped short.

"Hey, Spike." She leaned up against the wall, eyeing him. Her dark brown hair was freshly spiked and adorned with purple streaks.

"Yo." Spike glanced down at her. She was wearing a tank top and short leather skirt that were so tight he couldn't figure out how she could even breathe. Kind of reminded him of someone else.

You're prowlin' around kinda late, aren't you?" She gave him a sultry smile.

"Guess so," he mumbled. "Needed smokes."

Wanda extended her arm, offering him her pack.

"Thanks." He took one from her pack and handed them back to her.

He reached into his pocket for a light. He had long since misplaced his lighter, and he suspected that it was now in the possession of one Faye Valentine. A match flared along the side of a red matchbook as he lit the cigarette, the yellow light flashing metallic silver through his cybernetic eye, making him look dark and menacing.

"Want some company?" she asked seductively, ignoring the look. She had been trying in a variety of ways, to get into his pants. A few times he had been tempted to take her up on her offer, to erase the memory of the last time he'd been with a woman.

He realized that he had been staring. He shook his head and pulled his eyes away, looking down at the cigarette in his hand.

"Nah," he said. "Got things to do."

"Too bad." Wanda smiled. "I could show you a real good time."

"Some other time maybe," he said as he dropped the spent cigarette to the floor, crushing it beneath his boot. As he turned to walk away, he felt her hand on his arm. He whirled around and snatched her wrist roughly as he slammed her against the wall.

"Don't ever touch me," he said furiously, his eyes blazing.

Wanda's eyes widened in fear at his sudden violence. He let go of her abruptly and turned around, heading back towards the entrance to the stairwell. He pulled open the door and started quickly down the stairs and outside into the rain, another cigarette clenched between his teeth and the smell of Wanda's fear up his nostrils.

By the time Spike reached the Glowing Sun, his jacket was soaked, and his fresh pack of cigarettes were sodden, putting him in a foul mood. He headed to the bar and sat down, waiting for Ronald, who was down at the other end of the bar chatting with a couple of regulars. Finally Ronald came down to him.

"The usual?"

"Yeah. Any messages?"

Ronald shook his head and went to mix the drink.

Spike swallowed his disappointment and glanced around the room. In addition to the regulars, there were a number of unfamiliar faces, which usually indicated that some syndicate activity was in progress. Now he knew that the reason behind the quiet of the past few days – the calm before a brewing storm.

Ronald returned and set down his drink on the bar. Spike furtively slid the white sheet of paper from under the glass, palming it in his fist. He took a long sip from the glass while reading the contents of the note, then looked at Ronald and nodded. Ronald acknowledged his assent and turned towards the storeroom.

"And bring me a pack of smokes, would ya?"

"Sure thing." Ronald disappeared into the storeroom. When he returned, he handed Spike two packs and refilled his glass. Spike drained his glass, then stood up.

"You heading out?" Ronald called.

"Yeah," Spike responded, sliding his arms into his jacket. "Later." He waved a greeting as he headed out the door.

He stopped under the archway to light a cigarette. The rain fell in pelting sheets, casting a dreary gloom over the city. He leaned against the overhang as he watched the people rushing past, protected by umbrellas threatening to spear whoever got too close, others with their jackets over the heads as an ineffective shield against the soaking rain.

He took a deep drag and exhaled, trying to shake off his melancholy. In the back of his mind he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would be sitting at the bar with her legs crossed, sipping her drink and pretending not to know that every set of eyes was on her.

He was angry with himself for believing that this time there would be a message from her. But it had already been six months, and it was becoming pretty obvious that she had meant every word she'd said to him. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and headed towards home.

The past is the past, and nothing that has already happened can be changed.

The only thing left for him to do was to forget the past and move on. But he could not imagine what the rest of his life would be without the things with which he was familiar.

A world without the Red Dragons family.

A world without the woman of his dreams, before the dream turned to ashes.

A world without the second chance at life that he had thrown away in a moment of weakness.

In the distance the roar of a heavy engine broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see a heavy armored ship pierce through the clouds of the heavy atmosphere. He squinted, trying to make out the lettering on the hull.

He didn't want to remember what had happened between them.

He wondered if she would have come looking for him if she had known the type of person that he turned into. That he had always been.

He had seen it in her eyes. She saw him for what he was, a cold and unfeeling, cruel monster, and with every accusation he found himself shutting down by degrees; it had taken every ounce of concentration to keep his uncaring mask in place.

And then out of frustration, probably from his seeming lack of caring, she had cried, silent tears that never fell. For the second time since he'd known her, he'd driven her to tears. The first time was when he'd walked away from the Bebop, sure never to see the ship or his comrades ever again in this life. This time, though … Spike shifted his position against the doorway as a familiar feeling welled up inside of him, a vague itch just out of reach, and he struggled to keep it buried.

_Goddamn that woman_, he thought, brutally crushing out his cigarette with the tip of his boot.

He immediately pulled out another and with shaking fingers lit up and smoked furiously, using the smoke to keep his throat from closing up. From deep within, the familiar feeling reached the surface, and he was assaulted with the feeling of being alone in the world, when he was too young to even reach the top of the counter at Annie's shop. It was Annie who had rescued him then when he had no one else in the universe to turn to.

He wondered who could save him now.

_another gun for hire and just another day_  
_when you are done, you just abuse it, whatever you say_  
_if you were offered some, would you wanna bite the hand?_  
_would you betray a friend to prove you're cold then walk away?_

o~o~o~

A few days later, preparations complete, he was back on the streets of Tharsis, following up on a tip that would lead him to his target.

Dr. Nathan Swami, head surgeon of one the largest biotech firms on Mars, headquartered in Tharsis City. Dr. Swami was a purveyor of human organs, sold to the highest bidder, and his price included acquisition and installation of the organs to the winner of the bid war. Unfortunately for him, his last surgery, replacement of kidneys in the body of the twelve year old daughter of a well-known socialite, were taken from the son of one of the Yellow Tail syndicate's highest ranking officers. And the word on the street was that the boy had been killed expressly for his kidneys, which were a perfect match for little Christina.

He reached the Destitute Fish Tavern, jammed between a porno theater and an electronics shop. There was a meanness about the place, even in the buzz of the blinking neon sign, bright red in the shape of a carnivorous fish. Spike paused for a moment, his eyes scanning over the motorcycles parked in front of the place. No one in Tharsis could afford bikes, especially ones as big as these were, unless they were independently rich or employed by the syndicates. He grinned to himself. He was in the right place.

The bike owners were big, husky men, and they were wearing black jackets that identified them as members of the White Triad gang. They looked up from their beers as he walked inside.

The music was almost deafening, pounding heavily from the ceiling mounted speakers, and on a small stage a thin blond girl in a G-string gyrated mechanically to the beat. A few other patrons watched the girl as the topless waitresses wandered around with trays of beers. Spike went to the bar, where the bartender, an emaciated man with scarred skin was pouring a new pitcher of brews. He stared at him warily as Spike slid onto a stool.

"Give me a beer on tap."

The bartender silently lifted a mug from the shelf and set it under the tap, waiting as it filled to the top.

"I'm looking for someone," Spike said.

"Yeah, ain't we all," the bartender answered. "Nobody knows nothing here. Try the Rusty Nail, over on Sebollah."

Spike scowled impatiently. "I'm looking for a man who might have come in here earlier."

"Does this look like the lonely hearts club? I serve beer and liquor, that's all. Take a hike, buddy."

On the bar counter sat a bowl full of Destitute Fish matchbooks, and Spike reached in to pocket a few. Then he pulled from his pocket a digitized picture of a pale skinned, dark haired man who looked to be in his late forties. "Have you seen anybody who-"

A hand grasped his shoulder and swung him around. Two of the bikers had crowded in behind him as the others watched from their table. The dancer on the stage had paused in her dancing to watch. A brown-bearded face with cruel blue eyes and wearing a necklace of rusty razor blades, peered into Spike's face. Spike eyed him impassively.

_Great, another wise ass_. This was supposed to be a quick trip out, to get a cold beer and a little info so that he could get back to his pointless life. He had no patience for idiots who tried to push their weight around ... it was time to let him know who was in control here.

"Go play in someone else's sandbox," he said in a bored tone, but he kept his eyes on the biker's friends.

The biker took a menacing step towards him. "And if I don't?"

Spike looked around, his eyes stopping at a table where a drunk was sitting surrounded by empty beer mugs. "Excuse me," he said and lifted an empty mug off the table. Then he cocked his arm back, took aim, and called out, "Hey, biker boy!"

The biker's head swiveled toward him, eyes flashing with anger.

Spike threw the beer mug, and it sailed through the air. The biker lifted his hand to ward it off, but he was too late. The mug hit him between the eyes, didn't shatter but made a satisfying clunking sound against his skull. He took two steps forward and one step back, his eyes rolled to show the bloodshot whites, and he fell like a tree trunk.

"Sonofabitch!" one of the bikers friends said as he watched his friend fall. Then his face darkened and he started toward Spike with two other bikers right behind him.

Spike stood firm and relaxed, his hands at his sides. He was itching to kick some ass and flow like water through the goons in front of him. He let them get within ten feet, and then he said in a calm voice, "Are you ready to join your friend?"

The one with the brown beard stopped as if he'd run into an invisible wall. One of the others ran into him and bounced off. "_Huh?_"

The other man stared at it and blinked uncertainly. "Who...who the hell _are_ you?"

"Spike Spiegel."

"I've heard of you before, haven't I?"

"Yes," Spike answered, a look of quiet menace on his face. "You probably have."

One of the bikers whispered something in his ear, and the man frowned slightly before stepping back and following his friends out the front door.

As the sounds of their roaring motorcycles faded away, Spike glanced at the bartender who was wiping down the counter, his face blank. Spike smirked and walked over to the bar and picked up his mug of beer. He took a long sip, wiping the froth from his lip with his tongue before setting the mug back down.

"I've seen him. The guy you're after."

Spike abruptly stopped and turned to face the bartender.

"He was in here maybe two, three hours ago."

"Do you know where he works?"

"Gabba Rocks Corporation, over on the other side of the freeway. He comes in here a couple of times a week." He stopped wiping and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "What do you want with him?"

Spike picked up the mug of beer and finished it up.

"Thanks for the scoop." He started toward the door with a wave of his hand.

Spike left the tavern and started walking east along the boulevard. The cabstand was just ahead, and a cab was there, engine running. A kid in jeans and a black leather jacket leaned against the hood; he was rail-thin, his head shaved bald displaying a tattoo in the shape of an ankh on his scalp.

"You've got a fare, kid," he said, sliding his long legs in. "Move it!"

The kid said, "I'm waiting for-"

"Your wait's over," Spike interrupted. "Come on, I don't have all night."

The kid shrugged, his eyes vacant and disinterested, and got behind the wheel. As soon as Spike was in, the kid shot away from the curb with a shriek of burning rubber and entered the flow of the westbound traffic.

"I want to go to the Gabba Rocks Corporation," Spike told him. "You know where that is?"

"Sure."

"Well, you're going the wrong way. And start your meter, unless I'm going to ride for free."

"Oh, yeah." He pressed the start button and the mechanism started ticking. "You want to go east, huh?" he asked. And without warning he spun the wheel violently, throwing Spike up against the cab's side, and the vehicle careened in a tight U-turn that narrowly missed a collision with another taxi. Horns blared and tires screeched, but the kid swerved into the eastbound lane without a care. Spike heard the whine of a siren and glanced back.

"Real smart move kid," he sighed. "You just got an escort."

The kid looked in the rearview mirror and shrugged.

"Lose him," Spike told him impatiently.

The kid laughed. "You got it." The car surged ahead as the cabbie floored the gas, and Spike was pressed to the seat from the velocity, holding onto the door handle for leverage.

"Excellent." He grinned to himself.

Spike could see the sign for the Gabba Rocks Corporation up ahead.

"Stop here," he commanded.

The car skidded to a halt a block away from the building. Spike handed his money card over, and the cabbie's eyes widened when he saw the amount that he was being paid.

"Hey man, thanks," he said, handing Spike the card.

Spike got out, slamming the door shut. The cab sped off, burning rubber.

He headed towards the building, every fiber in his body on alert as he surveyed the area. He estimated that he would make it to the building in about four minutes. He glanced over at the other side of the street, looking for the bodyguards that would be positioned across the area, a wide scan of protection for his target. He laughed to himself, knowing that all the body guards in the world would not be able to protect the target from him.

Spike's ears perked up as he surveyed the odd number of black-suited men in dark glasses. His face expressionless, he slowed his pace and casually pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lighting the end as his cybernetic eye recorded the positions of each one of them. He played out the moves in his mind as he smoked. The suit covering flank was a huge brute, but, judging by the way he stood, seemed to be slightly favoring his left side, which Spike guessed from a previous injury.

As he got closer, the first of the bodyguards walked towards him, something shining silver in his hand. Spike braced himself as the knife flashed up in his face, and he blocked, stumbling slightly as a fist swung into his face, landing hard on his jaw. His head snapped back and he saw stars, tasting blood in his mouth. His fury aroused, he lunged for the man's throat, his knee snapping up into his groin.

Fifteen minutes later, he had taken down all five of them, and as he stepped over their bodies, he felt only contempt for them; they blindly followed the orders of their syndicate without question. He had been like them once.

He walked through the lobby of the building towards the receptionist, rubbing his sore jaw ruefully.

"How may I assist you?" the girl asked, a crimson blush on her cheeks as Spike smiled at her.

"I have an appointment at two with Dr Swami," he told her, leaning against the desk as he waited for her to respond.

"Your name?"

"Joseph Spiegel."

She frowned as she looked down at her appointment book entries.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spiegel, but I don't see your name in the book."

Spike cocked his head to the side and leaned forward to rest his arms on the desk. "That's odd, Nathan said that he would fit me in at two. I'm sure he's expecting me." He gave the girl a puzzled smile.

The receptionist looked up at him doubtfully. "Well, if you're sure … " She reached below the desk to buzz him in.

Spike smiled at her. "Thanks, love." He strode purposefully to the double doors that led to Dr. Swami's office.

A few short minutes later, he was leaving the office. He calmly removed the silencer from the gun and replaced them both in his jacket. He walked out to the receptionist, waving a goodbye as he left the building.

Spike pulled his jacket closer as he walked down the crowded street through the throngs of people revving up for an evening of partying. Spike recalled once being part of such a crowd, when he and other young and fearless associates would spend the night drinking and partying after a troublesome or bloody mission. It was during that time that he'd discovered the magic curing properties of the Prairie Oyster.

The noise and lights of Alba Boulevard burned in his ears, reminding him of walking these same streets as a kid. He was well acquainted with the shadows that lay at the fringes of these streets, and of the danger lurking in the shadows. His senses were on full alert as he continued his journey, cars and taxis zipping past honking obscenely at the brave souls who dared to cross the street in front of them. As he reached the street corner, a prostitute jiggled her wares as she beckoned to him. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

Out of the corner of his eye a flash of yellow and he turned quickly to look. A woman dressed in a yellow sundress and holding the hand of a little girl passed him. For a split second he had expected someone else, a woman in a tiny yellow outfit with a brazen attitude. It surprised him to realize that he was disappointed that it wasn't her.

_I need you to forgive me._

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and fumbled in his jacket for his pack, his hands shaking slightly as he lifted one out with his lips. He gripped the Zippo tightly as he held the flame to the cigarette. He inhaled fiercely and held his breath for a few seconds longer than necessary before letting out the smoke. He refused to believe that the burning in his eyes had to with anything other than the smoke from his cigarette.

_I miss you._

Journey's end.

Well, almost.


	10. Silent Blues

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 10. Silent Blues**

_Been far away for far too long_  
_So far away, so far away_

The bullet slammed into his shoulder, and he struggled to hold onto his Jericho as the pain blindsided him. He fired off rounds with the gun in his left hand, until all three gunmen lay dead on the pavement.

He slumped against the building, sliding down until his bottom hit the ground, breathing heavily as he waited for the pain to subside. He had not planned on coming so close to dying today. But, at least he could say that he had achieved his goal.

As he gazed over at the three bodies, an overwhelming exhaustion washing over him. He was coming to the realization that the chains he had built around his heart was not as strong as he had thought; a certain purple-haired femme fatale held the key.

The first time it occurred to him was when he had walked into the Glowing Sun to see her sitting on that bar stool, legs crossed as the hem of her dress rode up suggestively, showing a smooth pale thigh. It wasn't the first time it occurred to him that she was beautiful.

And he just could not erase the memory of the pain he had so callously caused her. He was seriously fucked up, he knew.

His eyes were starting to glaze over from the loss of blood leaking from his shoulder and the thin stream of liquid that trickled down his face. He blinked rapidly against the burning in his eyes and he looked up, seeing not the electric wires traversing across the city, but the lush green of trees on a windy day, someplace in the time of his past.

For a fleeting moment, he thought about how easy it would be to just let it all end here and now.

_Is this all that's left?_ He laughed mirthlessly at what the authorities would think when they found the infamous Spike Spiegel, dead in an alleyway by his own hand. What a fitting end to an otherwise stellar life of crime.

Her image had come to his mind many times in the past six months; the sheen of dark hair brushing across a soft, pale cheek, her face displaying a wistful innocence that she kept hidden unless she was alone, smoking or staring out the porthole into space.

That was the image that appeared before he blacked out; it was that image that prompted him to call Ronald at the Glowing Sun before everything went dark.

o~o~o~

"Spike!"

Faye shoots up in bed as she is jolted awake. She looks around blindly for Spike until she realizes that it had been just a dream, more like a nightmare. She tries to recall exactly what had happened before she woke up but all she can remember is a hazy dark scene, with dead bodies strewn across the ground, and one of the bodies was Spike's.

But the most disturbing part, the part that bothers her the most, was that the bullet through his brain had been put there by the gun in his hand.

She doesn't know how she knows, but she does. It's as though she can see inside of him, hear his thoughts, feel his guilt.

She swings her feet to the floor, standing in place for several minutes as she tries to shake off the feeling of unease.

"Spike," she whispers. "Where are you?"

She lays down again and presses her cheek against the pillow, and she closes her eyes against the tears, wondering if she can find some way for it not to hurt so much.

o~o~o~

As consciousness returned, the muffled sound of voices drifted to his ears and he opened his eyes. Then he became aware of two things: the light hurt like hell, and he had a blinding headache that made him want to puke. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to identity of the voices speaking softly in the room.

"… lost a lot of blood … blood type … O negative … two ccs …"

"Where - find … ambushed …"

The smell of ether and the beep of machinery told him that he was probably in hospital.

Here we go again.

The flicker of a smile flashed across his mind, but his heart sank as he realized that he had cheated death yet again. He was finding it hard to remember what had been his last thought before he blacked out.

_I - I can't - goddamn it – why can't I remember?_

He struggled to open his eyes again, focused on the blurry figures near the bed instead of the pain that was nearly splitting his skull apart. He lifted an arm to rub his head, but was stopped short by the device pinning his arm to the bed.

At the rustling of the sheet, the voices stopped, realizing that he was awake. He could see one of the figures moving towards the bed, accompanied by the smell of flowers.

_Faye._


	11. So Far Away

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 11: So Far Away**

"Bye-bye Faye-Faye!" Ed's chipper voice screamed from the screen.

"Goodbye, Edward."

_Why can't she just say it once_, Faye mumbled as she ended the connection. _I swear, she does it just to annoy me._ She switched over to TV mode, surfing through the channels to find something to watch. She paused at a station showing an old martial arts film and immediately thought of Spike and his obsession with training and katas. She stared down at the screen as she thought back to three months before, when she'd last seen him.

"Faye!"

Startled, Faye looked up into Jet's frowning face.

"What?"

"I asked if you were done with that."

Confused, Faye looked down at the table at her uneaten bowl of noodles. "Oh. Yeah."

"You'll remember the food you wasted when we're starving again," he told her.

Faye rolled her eyes. "I know, Jet."

Jet sighed. He came around the couch and sat down beside her. "When you first came home after meeting with Spike, I didn't say anything." He looked at her. "I figured it was just the shock of seeing him alive after so many months. But now…"

He stopped abruptly and looked into her face. "…Now I think there's something else. You've been so quiet. That's not like you, Faye. What aren't you telling me?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Jet."

She looked up, startled when Jet slammed his fist down on the table.

"See? You never used to be jumpy like that, Faye. Something happened when you were in Tharsis that you aren't telling me. What the hell happened between you and Spike?"

Faye stuck her hands inside her sweater, clenching them as chewed on her lower lip. Jet was bearing down on her like a big, protective mother, and in another minute, she was going to break down and tell him everything.

She inhaled a shaky breath. "Jet, don't-"

Jet sighed. "Alright. If you don't want to tell me, it's alright." He patted her shoulder like she was a little girl. "But if I find out he did something to you, Faye ..." He stood up and stretched, her eyes following his every move.

She didn't know how to begin, but she knew that she couldn't go on much longer like this. It had been months since she had been able to sleep through the night without waking up shaking, as the memory of that night six months ago came crashing through her brain in muddled images. Sometimes, instead of Rives in that alleyway, it would be Spike's face, grinning at her maniacally and maliciously and she would be no good for days. It was affecting her ability to follow through on bounties, and Jet definitely noticed.

"Jet," she began.

He slowly turned around to face her. "I knew something happened. Ed noticed too."

She looked up into his face hesitantly. "Do you remember a bounty named Rives?"

Jet raised an eyebrow. "Dirtbag with a twenty million woolong bounty wanted for assault and rape on five women?"

She nodded.

Jet furrowed his eyebrows. "Yeah, he turned up dead in an alley a couple of months back. What about him?"

Faye looked away before she answered. "He was murdered the night I was in Tharsis. Spike killed him."

Jet studied her face for a long moment, searching her pleading green eyes. "You were there?"

She nodded again. Jet sighed and rubbed his head, then came to sit next to her. "Tell me what happened."

She curled up and wrapped her arms around her knees, closing her eyes as she told Jet about that night. His expression was stony as she related the story, but he remained quiet as she talked. She didn't tell him about what had happened after she returned to Spike's place. His sense of justice and duty would have compelled him to confront Spike, and she was sure they'd both end up dead. She couldn't bear to have their deaths on her conscience. When she finished, Jet was silent. She stole a glance at Jet's stony-faced expression as he absorbed it all. Her eyebrows momentarily stitched, then smoothed as she let out a puff of air and laid her head on her knees, eyes focused on the fan rotating overhead and the calming hum of the ship's engines.

o~o~o~

Misty Shores was only three heads behind, having come from nearly last place. If he won, she'd be cashing in a big win. Faye watched in anticipation as her horse drew closer to the front of the pack. Faye's eyebrows momentarily furrowed, and she let out a puff of air, her eyes focused on the track. She furrowed her brows as the number two lead jumped into first place, squashing her winning hopes. She bunched the wad of tickets and threw them in the air, watching them scatter to the ground like fallen flower petals. Well, her luck at the horses wasn't holding up today. She sighed and pushed her way through the crowd towards the exit. As much as she wanted to try her hand at another race, losing that last race had depleted most of her woolongs.

Outside the racetrack building, she wrapped her old red sweater closer and debated whether to try wheedling her way into a card game to recoup some cash. The soft ringing of the communicator drew her attention. She adjusted her shirt and shrugged further into her sweater before she picked it up to look at the display.

It was Jet. She opened communication.

Faye quirked an eyebrow. "What?" She said flatly.

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice calm and smooth.

She frowned. She hadn't even been gone for two hours, and already he was checking up on her. "What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded. "I told you I was going to do a little shopping."

"By way of the horse races?"

She rolled her eyes and looked down at her bags. Shopping was her second favorite way of relieving tension, now that Spike wasn't around to annoy. "Get off my back, Jet. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."

"Why didn't you take Ed with you?" he demanded, an indecipherable expression on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Ed misses him too, you know. I just thought that it might be good to spend some time with her."

Faye sighed. "Okay, Jet, what's going on?"

"What?"

"You've never pushed Ed on me before."

It was Jet's turned to sigh. "She thinks you're sad," he said quietly.

Faye deflated, a little stunned by his words. Ed was usually flighty, she sometimes forgot how perceptive she could be. She considered going back to the Bebop. "Look, I'm just going to go to one more place. But if you really want me to, I'll head home now," she said, only a little sarcastic.

"Whatever, Faye," he said, moving his hand to his head to rub the bald spot. "Do what you want."

Faye furrowed her brow as she considered, then nodded. "Alright, I'm heading back."

Jet mumbled something unintelligible and cut the connection. Shaking her head, Faye tucked the communicator back in her pocket. She didn't believe that it was Ed who was worried, and Jet meant too much to her to make him worry. She sighed and headed back to the Redtail.

o~o~o~

He opened his eyes and under the bright lights of the room, the blurry image finally came into focus. He found himself looking up into the face of a woman with hair the color of deep, dark violet.

It wasn't Faye.

"Faye," he whispered, closing his eyes again.

"Oh, you're awake. Did you say something?" The voice, gentle and soft, was nothing like Faye's.

"Where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

"You're in Syrtis Hospital. You've been here for over a week." She tucked in the covers at the foot of the bed, where his feet had come loose from under the sheet. "You had some pretty severe damage to your shoulder. Shattered part of the bone and did some damage to the muscles. But the doctor will come in later to explain it all to you. I'm Jenny, your nurse, by the way." She looked closer at the expression on his face. "Are you in pain?"

He shook his head, his eyes closed tightly as tears prickled at the corners. He couldn't believe that actually missed the shrew's grating voice. The nurse leaned in closer, and his eyebrow twitched. He sucked in a breath before shaking his head vigorously this time.

"Mr. Spiegel?"

"Yes," he answered through clenched teeth. He just wanted her to go away and leave him alone. As he clenched his hands into fists under the sheet, the pulse monitor began beeping incessantly and the pain in his head increased to unbearable proportions. Dimly he heard the nurse say something to him and after that, blessed silence.

o~o~o~

When he awoke again, the blinding headache was gone. The room was dark except for the soft amber lights on the monitor next to his bed. He lifted his head and looked down at the leather straps at his wrists. He must have gotten violent before blacking out. Where was Nurse Jenny, he wondered. As if on cue, the door opened and the violet-haired nurse entered the room.

"Ah, Mr. Spiegel," she chirped, "You're awake again."

"It's Spike," he said wearily. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," she said. "We had to sedate you to keep you from hurting yourself."

"I see."

She leaned over to unfasten the wrist straps and straighten the bedsheet. "How's the head?"

"Still here."

She laughed. "Good. Then you are feeling better."

He didn't know what she found so funny, but he didn't see any point in mentioning it. "What happened?"

"You had an allergic reaction to one of the medications. We had to sedate you to keep you from hurting yourself."

He nodded. Whatever the reason, he was glad that the pain was gone. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't enjoy pain. With the number of injuries and broken bones that he'd experienced in his life, pain was something that came with the territory, and he'd learned to live with it. "So, when do I get out of here?"

The nurse eyed him closely. "You can't be released until someone signs you out. Is there someone we can call?"

He stifled his first thought to call Faye. No use going there, he'd slammed the door on her months ago. He gave Jenny an irritated look before turning to stare out the window. The sky was bright and clear under the environmental dome that encased the city. He really hated climate control. He wanted the day to be dark and rainy to match his mood.

After a few moments of silence, Jenny started talking again. "By the way, the young lady who came to see you had the same color hair as mine."

Spike whipped his head around to look at her.

"We both got quite a kick out of it." She laughed. "It was the only thing we had in common. She was quite pretty. And I would kill for a figure like hers." She looked down at her plump figure. "Her eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, though they seemed a little sad to me." She peered at Spike. "She said her name was Faye. She called you a funny name, like lunkit or something like that."

His heart pounded, threatening to break out of his chest. He had thought that it was a dream. "She was here? When?"

Nurse Jenny raised a brow as she surveyed her patient and smiled knowingly. "It was during the week you were unconscious. She said that she had gone to the bar where you work, and they told her where to find you. She seemed pretty upset when she saw you. She sat with you for a while, then she left. She came back the next day, and we talked about what had happened. She told me some things about you, too. 'Watch out for him,' she said. 'He can be a real asshole when he's mad.' I said that I didn't believe it, you looked so innocent when you're sleeping."

His cheeks burned and he stared down at his feet sticking up from the hospital bed. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled. If he could sink into the floor right about now, it would be a really good thing.

"Anyway," Jenny said, turning serious, "She said that she didn't want to be called when you were released ... but she left her contact information just in case you – " She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and held it out to him.

The heaviness in his chest eased. So like Faye to pretend she didn't care. He'd always been able to see through her façade, and he suspected that she could read him just as well, though neither of them ever dared to venture into that forbidden territory of feelings. Bad things happened when you cared, and he had an irrational fear that if he showed how much he did care, something would happen to her. So he'd pushed her away in the worst way imaginable. He never would have guessed that she would come to see him.

"I already know how to reach her," he said irritably.

Nurse Jenny's eyebrows raised just a little. "Would you like me to call her?"

He shook his head. "Call … Soo Ling Yumako at the Glowing Sun Lounge in Tharsis."

o~o~o~

Dr. Mordecai Barnes closed the holographic chart and looked thoughtfully at his patient.

"You're healing quite nicely, Mr. Spiegel. It's quite rare that we have a patient who heals as quickly as you have." He looked down at Spike, examining the arm. "And how is the pain?"

"Better than a week ago," he mumbled.

Dr. Barnes agreed. "Yes, it should be. The muscles in the forearm tend to compensate for the weakness in your shoulder, resulting in more strain. Probably at night is worse?"

Was this guy a doctor or just stupid? Even Ein would know that pain got worse at night, just when you wanted to sleep. He grunted in response.

Dr. Barnes pulled out the medical transmitter from his lab coat and spoke in a short, clipped tone. "Evening dose administer 4mg fentanyl for Room 304-A." He replaced the chart at the foot of the bed. "Get some rest, Mr. Spiegel." He turned on his heels abruptly and marched out of the room.

Spike scowled at the doctor's back. Well, that was a waste of a visit, and he still didn't know when he was getting out.

The door opened and Jenny came in. She picked up his medical chart and peered down at the doctor's notes. "Hmmm, everything seems to be good." She looked up at Spike. "Did Dr. Barnes say when you could go home?"

"He didn't say anything. All he did was order more drugs." He gave her a dark look. "I don't need more drugs. I just need to get out of here."

"Your shoulder isn't completely healed, Spike. Maybe in a few more days…" Her voice faded when he growled. "But I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah," he grumbled. "You do that." He sat up with a grimace as pain flowed through his joints. Jenny dashed forward to assist him but he shot her a warning look, and she backed away, hovering from a safe distance. He swung his legs to the floor, leaning too heavily on his injured side when he tried to stand, and grunted from the pain.

"Careful, Spike." Jenny moved closer.

He waved her away. "I'm fine," he said irritably. He took a deep breath and tried again. His legs threatened to give way, and Jenny moved in. He leaned against her, hating feeling helpless. "Who would have imagined," he mumbled, "the infamous Spike Spiegel, former bounty hunter and … reduced to leaning on the arms of a nurse. Just shoot me now."

Jenny laughed. "So your girlfriend is a bounty hunter?"

He scowled. "She's not my girlfriend."

Jenny raised her brow. "Oh, I thought …"

"Well, you thought wrong," he said brusquely.

"Okay." She put her hands up in surrender.

He walked forward gingerly, wincing at the pain as he shuffled into the small bathroom.

"I'll be right outside the door," Jenny said. "Just yell if you need me."

"Right," he scoffed. He managed to pull his boxers down with one hand, not wanting to chance pulling the stitches in his shoulder. He finished up and put down the toilet seat, then leaned into the mirror to examine his face. The hair on his chin was too thick to be called stubble. He scratched at the overgrowth and looked around the tiny space for a razor.

"Jenny?" he called out. The door handle turned and he pressed his palm against the door to keep her from coming in. Just because he was in a hospital didn't mean that he wasn't entitled to a little privacy.

"Everything okay in there?"

"Yeah, I need a razor."

"Come back to bed and I'll take care of that for you," Jenny said from the other side of the door.

He leaned his head against his hand. "You're kidding, right?"

She didn't answer.

He let out a long, dramatic sigh and opened the door to let her in. Jenny stood in the doorway chuckling.

"You're not used to this, are you?"

He scowled at her and pushed himself past her to the bed. He refused to grace her with an answer.

o~o~o~

Spike waited for Ronald to bring the car around to the hospital entrance, drumming his fingers against the circular reception desk in the hospital lobby. He hated waiting. He looked behind him, expecting to see Nurse Jenny chasing after him. She had called Soo Ling, who convinced Dr. Barnes to release him a few days early, with the understanding that he return to the hospital in a week's time for an evaluation. For some strange reason, Nurse Jenny had assigned herself his 'savior' whose first mission was to "get Spike and Faye back together," even though he'd told her that she was not his girlfriend. Not even close. He sighed. He really needed a cigarette. He hadn't even been able to sneak a puff – Nurse Jenny had made sure that the pack he kept in his jacket were 'put safely away.' He was already out of breath from being laid up for so long and probably couldn't even finish half. But he was perfectly willing to try. He adjusted the sling and clenched his fingers. His left shoulder ached like hell and his fingers were numb. It was going to be a while before he would be able to use the arm. Good thing he was ambidextrous.

From the corner of his eye he spotted a figure coming from the elevator. He didn't have to look to know who it was. Damn, she sure didn't give up easily.

"Spike!" Jenny greeted as she walked over to the desk. "I was on the floor making my rounds, and when I got to your room, you were already gone! You weren't planning on skipping out without saying goodbye to me, were you?"

He forced a smile. "Of course not. How could I leave without saying goodbye to my favorite nurse?" He batted his eyelashes at her.

Jenny laughed. "I'm sure you wouldn't." She reached out to clasp his hand. "Take it easy, Spike. We'll see you back here in a week."

He shook her hand. "Thanks for everything, Nurse Jenny."

Ronald came through the revolving doors pushing a wheelchair towards them. Spike gave him a sour look. "I'm not an invalid, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Ronald looked at Jenny, who nodded in agreement.

"Hospital rules."

He scowled but dropped into the seat, relief flooding into his unused joints.

"Please give my regards to your lady friend, okay?" Jenny called out as Ronald wheeled the chair around and out the hospital doors.

o~o~o~

Spike watched the scenery as they drove down the Tharsis freeway, Ronald darting in and out of traffic with the ease of a racecar driver. "Bud, you're in the wrong profession," he said as the car careened through a sharp curve.

"So, I'm told," Ronald said lightly. "But I like a little more stability in my life. Tending bar suits me just fine."

Spike tried to imagine being forever banned from flying; not the self-imposed grounding that he had placed upon himself. When he decided to pilot the Swordfish again, which he knew would happen sooner or later, all he to do was go to Doohan to reclaim his baby. Even though it had been over a year, he would not give in to the urge; the temptation to rendezvous with the Bebop was too strong.

The car sped along towards the high-rise buildings in the center of the city, passing high-end shops and hotels. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "You're going the wrong way," he said to Ronald. "I don't live on this side of town."

Ronald chuckled and continued driving. "You do now."

"What are you talking about?" Spike growled as he gripped the back of the front seat. "Whose bright idea was this?"

"Soo Ling's."

He took a deep breath. When he was a young upstart with the Dragons, Mao had warned him to tone down his defiant streak around Soo Ling, to do what she asked and he had begrudgingly complied. Mao trusted her, and that had been enough for him. Now, years later, she was still trying to meddle into his affairs, and here he was, still allowing it, as if Mao was still alive. He sighed and looked out the window as the car sped past the patch of high rise buildings. As they neared a tall building of smoked glass windows lined in gilded gold, Ronald slowed the car and pulled in front of the guarded building. The Samora Crown Hotel was surrounded by boutique shops and over-priced cafes frequented by executives and capos alike conducting their wheeling and dealing in the corporate boardrooms of Tharsis while the ISSP turned an organizational blind eye.

Spike looked up at the size of the building and heaved a big sigh.

"Shit, this is where she picked?" He slumped back against the seat. "Let me guess, penthouse, right?"

"Yep."

Spike closed his eyes. The Samora Crown Hotel was simply not his style. But he bet Faye would like it.


	12. The Space Between

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 12. The Space Between**

_The way I see it_  
_This relationship ain't right_  
_The space between us  
Better close it up tonight  
The space between us  
Close it up tonight_

Spike rubbed his fatigued eyes and laid the large folder of papers on the large ornate mahogany desk. Soo Ling had demanded that he read and sign the papers by noon, and he didn't want to deal with her wrath today.

"Business calls, and unless you want to be replaced, you'd better have these signed when I come by."

He stood up and walked over to the window. His office overlooked the river, which wound its snaky path through the span of the city of Tharsis. From up here, you would never imagine the poverty and neglect that existed below. Hell, even walking along the uptown boulevards, you'd be hard pressed to find any of the illegal dealings that went on. For that, you would have to wait until the sun set and the business people went home to their houses in the domed privileged areas. No one could have convinced him when he was a kid on the streets, that one day he would be one of them living the life of luxury. He would have laughed in their faces at that. Yet, here he was. It was a lonely existence, and the only thing that kept him going was his guilt and the desire to right the wrongs that he had done to the people that he ... cared about. A couple of times he had thought about calling Jet, but he wouldn't know what to say to him, and he didn't want to find out if Jet knew about him and Faye.

He leaned his head against the cold glass. Soo Ling would be showing up soon, and he was only halfway through signing the papers. What was the deal with her anyway? She'd been the one to arrange for his move to the Samora Crown, and his installment in the Hidden Dragons organization. The money that was deposited into his accounts was her doing as well, and he couldn't figure out what she got from it all. He supposed it was because she had been close to Mao, and had made him a promise to watch after his former protégé. It was the only thing that made any sense. Yet when he had asked her about it, she got a strange look on her face and changed the subject. She wasn't talking, and no one else was either.

He pushed himself away from the window and returned to his desk. He hurriedly scribbled his name on the rest of the papers and stuck them back in the folder. Not a moment too soon, because a minute later Soo Ling walked into his office.

"You have the papers for me?" she asked in her sing-song accent as she strode over to him. She had born in the Chinese district and had never completely lost the accent. He thought it was cute. She thought he was annoying.

Spike smiled triumphantly and slid the folder towards her. "All done."

She raised her eyebrow. "Oh? I thought I would have to chase you down again."

He snorted. "It's not that hard to sign my name to a bunch of papers," he said, getting up from the desk. "Am I done now?"

She snatched up the folder, thumbing through the sheets. "You sure you didn't miss any? You get sloppy when you're in a hurry to leave."

"It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful day stuck inside, don't you think?" He flashed his charming smile and waited for her to soften. It wasn't working. She didn't even bat an eye.

"Looks like everything is here. You can go now." She closed the folder and walked to the door.

He grinned. He was being dismissed like he was a snot nosed kid. "Thanks, Mom."

She opened the door and slammed it behind her.

He walked back over the window and looked around again. It was a beautiful day. Too bad he didn't have anywhere to go. He turned back to his desk and picked up his communicator. After a moment of hesitation, he called Jet. After a few rings, Jet picked up, and his face lit up in surprise.

"Yo."

"Spike! You slug! Where the hell have you been?"

Spike smiled. He really missed the old man. "Here and there," he said cryptically. "How've you been?"

Jet sighed. "Been better, but I can't complain." He raised an eyebrow at Spike. "No one would listen anyway."

Spike grinned. "Well, you could get the shrew to listen to you."

Jet looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Huh? Oh yeah, you don't know."

"Know what?"

"Faye's not here. Hasn't been for a couple of months."

Spike's heart pounded. "She left?"

"Yeah, met some slick guy at a casino in Alba City. They must have hit it off pretty well, because the next thing I know, she says she's moving in with the guy."

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started hurting and he had to take in a gulp of air. _Time to cut back on the smokes_. He was glad for her, he supposed. She deserved someone who could be there for her.

Jet was still talking. "Yeah, she and this Riley guy are a hot item on the casino circuit, so I hear. He's one of the Rileys from Texas, old Earth. Made their money in oil. Somehow managed to stay legit, no connection with the syndicates or ISSP. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them."

He'd heard of the Rileys, of course. After the Gate accident, none of the syndicates had been able to get close to them. Mao had tried, but they were on the straight and narrow and had enough woolongs to resist them all. They had a wide reach in real estate and properties that spanned across several planets. They even had their own massive and experienced security detail. After a while, no one tried anymore. It figured that Faye would get herself hooked up with a guy with money. The irony was, he now fit in that same category. It wasn't like he and Faye had ever been together. He'd never even entertained the thought. He shook his head. Best not to go there.

"So, she's happy?"

"I guess so," Jet said. "She breezes in every now and then. Brings souvenirs for Ed and me. Designer dog biscuits for Ein. Even kisses me on the cheek. Then she takes off again." Jet chuckled. "Yeah, I'd say she's happy."

Spike was silent.

"You okay there, buddy?"

He looked up at Jet's face on the screen. He'd almost forgotten he was there. He rubbed at the warmth on his cheeks. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, clenching his jaw.

"No reason. Just thought you looked-"

"Yeah, alright," Spike interrupted him. He reached over to disconnect.

"Spike wait."

He paused midair and glared at Jet.

"Me and Ed are docked at Tharsis. Are you on Mars?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you come by? For old time's sake?"

Spike thought for a moment.

"I'll fix your favorite - bell peppers and beef."

Spike smiled. "Yeah, okay." He cut the connection.


	13. Darkness Be My Pillow

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 13. Darkness Be My Pillow**

_Darkness, Darkness  
__Be my pillow  
__Take my head  
__And let me sleep in the coolness of your shadow  
__In the silence of your deep_

He was dreaming in shades of yellow and green and purple in a place that was vaguely familiar, although he was sure he had never been there before. It reminded him of the tropical climate of Ganymede. A strong blast of air blew in from the ocean and dried the the sweat from his hair. He and Romany were having a spat over over who should get the last piece of cake. She argued that she was entitled to the piece since she was a woman and it was that time of the month. Secretly, he had to agree, knowing how cranky and unpleasant she got. Still, it tickled him to keep up the argument, knowing that he was going to let her win out in the end.

"Spike. Spike. Wake up."

He was shaken out of the dream by a soft voice and a gentle touch on his shoulder. He turned over and tried to re-conjure up the dream.

"Spike, wake up."

Spike cracked an eyelid in irritation at the sound of his name being called.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head." Nurse Jenny was the picture of cheeriness in her starched white uniform and perky voice.

She wasn't going to let him ignore her. She never did. He mumbled under his breath and sat up.

"Time for your meds." Jenny held out a glass of water and his pills.

He took the pills she offered and swallowed them, ignoring the glass.

"My, aren't we stubborn today," she teased. She set the glass on the nightstand and eyed him curiously. "What the matter, got up on the wrong side of the bed again?"

"I'm not even up yet." He flopped his head back down. "You interrupted a sweet dream."

"Sweet dream, huh? It wouldn't have happened to have your purple haired girlfriend in it, would it?"

Spike huffed in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you? She's not my girlfriend." He crossed his arms, his face stuck in a pout.

Jenny laughed. "Oh, yeah, that's right. So sorry."

Spike glared at her. "No you're not."

Jenny agreed. "You're right again." She moved over to the side of the bed. "Alrighty then, sit up. Time for your exercise." She put up a finger when he started to protest. "Come on, the sooner we start, the sooner we'll be done."

He couldn't argue with that. He got up and followed her into the living room. An hour later, he collapsed onto the leather sofa, his sweaty body sliding against the leather. Ouch. That was going to leave a burn mark. Jenny tried to coax him into taking a shower, but he wasn't interest. He didn't like to admit that the workout completely drained him. He was relieved when she finally left him in peace. Until she returned in two days to torture him some more.

* * *

The Bebop was moored at Tharsis River and looked forlorn and battered next to the larger, modern cargo ships parked next to it. Spike pushed open the heavy metal port door, ducking his head as he went in. The common room was smaller than he remembered; his penthouse living room could fit ten of these.

He looked towards the galley where he expected to see Jet as in the old days, wearing an apron and hunched over the small stove in the kitchen, wok in hand. The galley was silent. As he wandered towards the hangar, the high peal of laughter wafted towards him. He didn't remember Ed having a laugh like that. That could only mean one thing. He swallowed his nervousness and headed out to the hanger.

* * *

"Spiiiike!"

Uh oh. Edward had just spotted him. Spike braced himself for impact as the willowy 15-year-old launched herself in his arms. She was taller, though still as thin as he remembered. She hugged him so tight that he could barely breathe.

"Hey, Ed," he said gently, returning her embrace.

"Ed is glad you decided to be alive," she whispered in his shirt.

He guessed he kind of missed her too. He looked over her carrot orange hair to the other side of the deck where Jet was grinning and Faye was, well, not smiling.

"Hey buddy," Jet greeted him. Jet had set up a hibachi on the deck and was grilling strips of beef and peppers. On cue, Spike's stomach grumbled at the smell of food.

"Hey old man," he said, a genuine smile gracing his features. "It's been a long time." It was good seeing his old friend. He could now understand the word homecoming. He should have guessed that Jet was arranging a complete reunion of the crew. Jet had left out that small detail.

He gently extricated himself from Edward.

"Aaww," she wailed. "Ed is not finished."

Spike patted her head. "Let me talk to Jet for a minute. More hugs later, okay?"

A mollified Ed nodded and zoomed away.

Spike walked over to his old friend. He leaned down and breathed in the smell. "So, what's cooking?"

"The usual. Bell peppers and beef."

"With actual beef, I see."

The two of laughed like it was the most hilarious joke in the solar system.

Spike glanced over at Faye.

"Yo." He figured he should say something else to her since it had been awhile since he saw her. "How are you, Faye?" _Real smooth, Spike. _

Faye did not crack a smile. "I'm fine, Spike. You?" She crossed her arms and turned to Jet, not waiting an answer.

He cringed, but the only visible reaction was a slowly broadening grin. _So, this is how it's going to be._ He resisted the urge to make a snarly comment. Her feathers were already ruffled as it was. Guess she wasn't happy to see him. He shrugged, his eyes on her back.

_Darkness, Darkness  
__Hide my yearning  
__For the things I cannot be  
__Keep my mind from constant turning  
__Toward the things I cannot see now  
__Things I cannot see_

What a way to spoil a homecoming.


	14. Cold as Heaven

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 14. Cold as Heaven**

The orange glow of sunset shimmered across the Tharsis River as ships roared across the darkening sky.

Spike leaned up against the limousine, long legs crossed, and his hands, as usual, in his pockets. An unlit, bent cigarette hung from his lips. His limousine was parked next to the marina where the Bebop was docked, and the driver sat behind the wheel talking on his communicator while he waited for his boss.

Jet emerged from the ship and walked over to Spike.

"Jet." Spike nodded in greeting.

"Spike," Jet answered. He reached over to light Spike's cigarette.

"You see she hasn't changed," Jet said. "Always keep the 'boys' waiting."

"Yeah." He kept his eyes on the sparkle of the sun across the river.

"You're looking good, Spike-o. How's the therapy coming along?"

He turned to Jet slowly, searching his face. This was the first time they'd had a chance to talk privately; when he had come to dinner two weeks ago, between Ed's insistence on being his second skin at dinner and Faye's sulkiness at his presence, the opportunity never arose. He had entertained them with stories about the therapy that he had to endure at Nurse Jenny's hands, and even Faye found them funny, which had lightened the mood. Which was probably why she accepted when he invited her out to dinner.

He shrugged.

Jet chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "You haven't changed, Spike. Still as talkative as ever."

Spike grinned at that. "And you're the same too, old man. Still trying to rub some hair on that bald head of yours."

They both laughed.

"How's the bounty hunting?" Spike asked.

"Few and far between, as usual," Jet said. "Only difference is, no collateral damage means more food in the fridge."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you talking about me?"

Jet gave him a sidelong glance. "And who else would I be talking about?"

"Hey," Spike protested. "Faye wasn't so delicate on those stakeouts either."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Jet rubbed at his head again. Somehow the conversation always wound its way back to Faye.

The two of them smoked in companionable silence as the sounds of the city traffic blew in from across the river. Finally, Jet headed back into the ship, promising to hurry Faye along. _Good luck with that_, Spike thought. He expected her to keep him waiting. He was surprised that she had agreed to go out with him at all.

Spike contemplated lighting another cigarette and reached in his pocket for his lighter. It was almost like the one Mao had given him years ago, with the red dragon etched into the silver casing. That one had disappeared his last night on the Bebop, and he had a good guess on who now possessed it. He lit the cigarette and repocketed the lighter. He slid his hands back in his pockets as he smoked, exhaling his nervousness.

Another twenty minutes passed before the port door slid open, and Faye emerged. His mouth dropped and the cigarette fell to the ground.

She was dressed to kill. The black dress she wore was just as striking as the one she wore the last time he saw her. She wore small diamond studs that contrasted with the dress and her pale skin was flawless. She had cut her hair; it reached just below her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with an emotion that he couldn't quite place.

He had thought about what he would say when he saw her again, but something inside him had begun to clench like a fist, leaving him speechless. He stood still and kept his sweaty hands inside his pockets as she approached him.

"Hello, Spike."

"Hey." He had forgotten how beautiful she was. He hoped and feared that she would come closer, but she stopped just inches away from him. He desperately wanted another cigarette, but he kept his hands in his pockets, for fear that they would, of their own accord, reach out to touch her face.

"Did you miss me, honey?" he asked in a gently teasing voice.

"If I didn't, I can't think of anyone else who would," she retorted.

He grinned. Her sarcastic wit was as sharp as ever.

"So, how have you been?" she asked. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at him.

He shrugged. He took a hand from his pocket and reached out to touch her hair, pretending not to notice her flinch. He withdrew his hand reluctantly.

"You seem to be all in one piece," she said.

He stared into her face, trying to detect sarcasm, and saw none.

"Yeah, almost as good as new. Just a few new scars to prove I'm alive." He chuckled at her expression.

"I can think of a lot better ways to feel alive." She finally moved closer and grabbed his hand, digging her long nails into his skin. He winced but he didn't move.

"See what I mean?" she asked, releasing his hand.

He rubbed at the reddening indentations on his knuckles and scowled at her.

Faye scowled back. She leaned back against the car and crossed her arms.

He watched her for a minute as she ignored his presence, then he too leaned against the car. He thought about lighting up again, but fought against it. She would think he was nervous being around her. Which he was.

"So, is this your new ship? Jet said you had some monstrous black boat ..."

He smiled at that. "Have to treat you in style, don't I? After all, this is kind of a date."

Faye blushed. "It's not a date. We said we would talk." She shifted her gaze to the river.

Spike sobered as he eyed her. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she hadn't forgiven him after all.

The silence stretched on for a few minutes.

"The nurse at the hospital said you came to see me."

"Yeah, well …" She didn't turn around.

"Why did you agree to come out with me?" he asked. He glanced at her hunched shoulders, tracing the outline of her spine with his eyes. His fingers twitched at the memory of tracing her bare spine with his fingertips.

"I wanted to hear what you had to say."

He didn't know how to respond, fearing that her answer wouldn't be what he wanted to hear. He shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his feet.

Well, maybe that was the answer. He was finally beginning to get her. The problem was, they were too much alike. He lit a cigarette and offered it to her, which she took. He lit one for himself, and the two of them stood silently smoking. Spike crushed his cigarette beneath his boot and turned to her.

"So, are you hungry?"

Faye cast him a sidelong glance. "Do you even have to ask?"

He grinned and turned to open the car door for her.

"After you, my dear."

* * *

The black car pulled up in front of Il Giardino Rosso, an exclusive restaurant in the Victoria section of Tharsis. Spike had discovered the place during his convalescent period when, out of boredom, he had begrudgingly allowed himself to be driven around to get acquainted with his new neighborhood. As a hood rat from the slums of Mars, he didn't get the appeal of such places; the pomp and glitter hid the fact that they were cheating you with food that looked good but was never enough. Personally, he'd rather stop at the hole-in-the-wall pub at the corner where he could order an overflowing plate to satisfy his stomach. But he would mentally file away the places that he thought Faye would like.

The driver came over to the side and opened the passenger door. Spike jumped out and held the door, motioning the driver away. He turned and waited for Faye to get out of the car.

She shimmied to the edge of the seat and put her leg out onto the sidewalk. Spike's eyes followed the long line of her bare leg, from her ankle up to where her dress had ridden up to her thigh. He forced his eyes to her face and offered her his hand. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled from the car.

"Thanks," she murmured and let go of his hand.

He cleared his throat.

The maître'd greeted them at the door. "Mr. Spiegel, how nice to see you," he gushed, bowing slightly.

Spike mumbled something unintelligible.

"One moment, please," the maître'd said. "Let me see if your table is ready." As he picked up the phone to check, Faye looked up at Spike dubiously.

"You've been here before?" she asked.

He looked down at her and grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

"Maybe," he said mysteriously. "You like it?"

Faye narrowed her eyes and started to say something, but the maître'd had hung up the phone and was turning back to them. "Right this way, please."

Spike slipped an arm around her waist as they followed through the dining room to a private outdoor table overlooking the city. The maître'd left them to enjoy the view and once he was gone, Faye pulled away, glaring at him.

"You can take your hands off now."

He raised his arms in mock surrender. "God keep me from your temper, Romani." He pulled out the chair for her, and she sat down, blowing out a huffy breath.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Just what it says," Spike said blandly. He sat down in the chair opposite her.

"Which doesn't tell me shit," Faye replied in the same tone.

"Maybe you're not looking close enough."

"Maybe I like to be thorough, in case I miss something," she said, leaning forward.

He wagged his finger playfully. "You can't be doing very well if you've _already_ missed something, now, can you?"

"Hey, at least I've got the courtesy to _ask_ before I start making assumptions." She drummed her fingers against the table in annoyance.

He knew he was being an ass. "My apologies," he said as he sat back in his chair.

"You aren't sorry," she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Guess not," he said. He put his hands on the table, tapping them against her fingers. "But give me a minute, maybe I can think of a few things I might be persuaded to feel a little sorry for. It wouldn't be half as interesting, though."

Faye pulled her hands away and looked up at him expressionlessly. "Try me."

He signaled the waiter and ordered their drinks. They suffered through an uncomfortable silence as they waited for the waiter to return. Finally, the waiter set the drinks on the table and left. He chuckled and raised his glass. "Alright. Hmmm, how sorry do I need to be?"

She looked down at the ashtray on the table, and he had a fleeting thought that she was considering chucking at his head. "Sorry enough that I can _tell_ without having to drag it out of you," she said.

Spike fiddled with his drink, the sweat of the glass cold against his palm, as he contemplated whether to give her an honest answer, even if he had to leave out the gory details. He focused on the swirling liquid as he spoke. "When I was nine, my mother … was killed coming home from work. From then on, I was on my own."

Though technically, she hadn't been his mother since she had not birthed him, she had been as close to a mother as he'd ever had. After her death, he built a defensive armor around his heart that remained impenetrable until he met Annie, who took him in and tried to tame him after the two years that he spent fending for himself on the streets of Tharsis.

This was the first time that he had ever revealed any personal detail from his life. Faye was quiet as she processed his revelation. She took in a deep breath before speaking.

"And you said it wouldn't be interesting," she answered. She lifted her glass and drank the melted ice.

"My mistake," he murmured thoughtfully. The tension in the air eased a little, and he smiled again, smaller and less mocking, before he half-drained his glass.

"Was that when you joined the syndicate?"

He shrugged, leaned back a little. The conversation was heading into uncomfortable territory, even though he was the one who had opened the door. He looked through the window at the couples on the dance floor and then turned back to Faye. "You want to dance?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

As they moved across the dance floor, Spike closed his eyes and breathed in her scent.

"Yeah?" he murmured, leaning down and placing his lips against Faye's ear. His insides fluttered as the sensations of his lips against the warmth of her skin sent quivers down his spine. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. He grinned down at her and nuzzled her nose.

"Sorry," was all he said.


	15. End Games

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 15. End Games**

As the last notes of the song started to fade, Spike pulled Faye close and leaned his head against hers. She tensed in his arms and he chuckled. "I won't hurt you," he whispered in her ear. "Again."

She didn't respond, but she relaxed in his embrace.

When the song ended, he guided her back to their table and held the chair for her.

"Want some dessert?" he asked after he sat down.

She cocked her head and furrowed her brow at this unexpected chivalry. "I'll pass," she said. She took a sip from her glass. They quietly finished their drinks.

The waiter came by their table. "How is everything? Can I get you something else?"

Spike looked at Faye. She shook her head.

"We're good," he said.

They waiter handed him the folio. Spike swiped his card and handed it back.

"Thank you, sir," the waiter gushed when he saw the tip.

Faye rose from the seat and smoothed her dress. Spike slid his arm around her waist and they walked to the front of the restaurant, where the maître d waited.

"Have a good evening," he said. He looked at Faye. "We hope you'll visit again with Mr. Spiegel."

"Thank you," Faye murmured, looking up at Spike.

He gave a cryptic smile and shrugged.

* * *

The car was waiting at the curb when they walked out the door. Ronald got out and opened the passenger door. Faye slid in gracefully and scooted over for Spike.

"Where to?" Ronald glanced up at the rear view mirror.

Spike looked at Faye questioningly. "Wanna stop someplace before?"

She raised her brow in annoyance. "I'm going back to Jet's."

He shrugged. The car sped off and onto the highway leading to Tharsis. The river snaked alongside the highway, occasionally disappearing behind buildings before making its reappearance. After a few minutes of silence, the soft sounds of jazz streamed in through the speakers.

Spike stole a glance at Faye. She seemed to be tense again. He leaned forward and pressed a button. A compartment opened and a table swished down, revealing rows of bottles and a neat array of glasses. He pulled out two bottles and looked at Faye with a raised eyebrow. "Lagavulin or Glenlivet?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "When did you become a whiskey connoisseur?"

He laughed. "Since you recognize the names, I could ask you the same thing."

"My father used to drink those … back in Singapore."

"Really." He looked at her quizzically. "I thought you didn't remember anything from your old life."

"Some things come back to me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger and gestured towards the bottles. "I'll take the Glenlivet."

Spike poured two glasses of the Glenlivet and handed her a glass. They sipped in silence, the music swirling through the car and the traffic whizzing past. Spike finished his glass and poured another, raising his eyebrow at Faye. She slid her glass over for a refill. Spike leaned back as the alcohol flowed through him. He hadn't felt this relaxed in quite a while. Faye next to him was quiet as well, though every time she shifted in the seat, he caught a whiff of her perfume and the scent of her shampoo.

He wanted to know if her skin was still as soft as he remembered, from that night six months ago. The thought that she had someone in her life who touched her the way that he had, filled him with jealousy.

When he glanced over at her, her eyes were already on him. He tried to read the emotion in her face, his eyes slid down to her lips, perfectly painted in her favorite red shade. He leaned closer and pressed softly against them. To his surprise, she did not resist. His hand snaked around her neck. She gasped against his mouth and he chuckled, the deep bass of his voice reverberating through them.

She buried her fingers in his hair and he relaxed into her, his weight sliding them prone against the soft leather of the seats. The smell of her, the warmth of her, intoxicated him. He wanted more. He slid his hand from her waist to the hem of her dress, sliding underneath the fabric to the bare skin of her thighs. She froze and tried to sit up. He pressed against her, gently pushing her back against the seat as his hand glided back to her thigh.

"Spike … " She pushed his hand away.

Her smell was intoxicating. The blood was pounding in his ears as memories of that night six months ago came flooding back.

"Why?" He slid his hand back to the smoothness of her thigh. "It's not like we haven't done it before."

The sudden pain was blinding as Faye slammed her knee into his groin. He clenched his teeth in barely suppressed anger and frustration.

Faye sat up and banged on the glass divider to get Ronald's attention. "Stop the car," she demanded.

The divider panel slid open and Ronald looked through the rear view mirror at Spike.

"Don't look at him!" Faye screamed. "Stop the damn car!"

The car kept rolling as Ronald waited for Spike's command.

Spike exhaled and tried to keep his cool. "Faye, I'll drive you back," he said tersely.

She ignored him and reached for the car handle. Spike's heart nearly stopped as an image of her body splattered across the highway flashed through his mind. He grabbed her arm to keep her in place. She yanked to pull away, but his grip was tight. Spike nodded to Ronald. The car slowed down and edged over to the shoulder until it came to a full stop. Spike released her and she flung open the door. The driver in a car speeding past leaned on his horn. Faye jumped out and stormed over to the sidewalk.

"Keep up with her," Spike said tersely. He rolled down the window and leaned his head out of the car. "Faye, come back to the car."

She walked faster, the staccato of her heels clacking loudly against the concrete.

"Come on Faye, just get in the car!"

She swirled around. "Fuck you, Spike!" She turned and continued walking.

Spike growled in frustration. "Stop here," he told Ronald. The car had barely rolled to a stop before Spike jumped out and stalked towards Faye.

"Slow down, Faye." He followed behind her, his long legs easily shortening the distance between them. "Faye, it's a couple of miles to the dock. It's too far to walk. Come on, I'll take you back."

Faye's pace did not waver. He followed behind her for a few minutes, then finally yelled out to her.

"I'm sorry!"

Faye slowed down but did not stop. He closed the distance between them.

"I'm sorry I treated you like … I'm sorry."

Faye walked over to the railing and looked down at the river. The traffic behind them going at high speeds and the image of Faye's body mangled and crushed assaulted his mind. He'd done it again, thinking only of himself and his needs. He was becoming quite adept at making her hate him. Thing was, the thought that she hated him was beginning to paralyze him. What was up with that? He walked over and leaned his back against the railing. He lit a cigarette and held it out to her. She took it, not looking at him. He lit one for himself and they smoked in silence.

He was lost in his thoughts when her fist struck him right between his ribs. He winced, his jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the sudden pain in his ribcage.

"What is it with you?" she asked angrily, rubbing her sore knuckles.

He said nothing, breathing in deeply. His ribs were going to be sore for a while. He thought back to Teddy Bomber, who had protested to the ISSP about his broken and bloody nose, thanks to Faye. He'd never been on the receiving end of her angry punches, as surprising as that was. Now he was glad that he'd never gotten her that angry before.

"Well?" She was still staring at him, her chest heaving in anger. "You're not the same."

He glanced her in surprise. "What?"

"You're different. Cold." She glared up at him. "And cruel." She turned away to stare across the river. "Does having so much power make you think that you can take whatever you want? Just because you have money doesn't give you the right to treat people any way you please."

Spike bristled. "I know that Faye, and I said I was sorry."

"But are you really?"

"I apologized, didn't I?"

She whirled around to face him. "Maybe you aren't so different after all." She put her hands on her hips. "You never apologized in the past. Just saying the words don't make them true."

He found that he didn't have an answer.

Faye tossed her spent cigarette to the ground. She walked towards him and he tensed, expecting another punch. But instead, she reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. Finally, he stubbed out his cigarette and looked at her.

"I'll take you back to the ship."

She ignored him, smoking in steely silence. The air between them thick with tension. He sighed inwardly and he waited for her to finish. Finally she dropped the butt to the ground and walked towards the car, leaving him to follow behind her like an errant child.

He got in the car. Faye sat at the far end of the seat, refusing to look at him. Ronald pulled off and continued the journey back to the docks.

Spike couldn't think of anything to say to her to break the silence. She didn't think his apology was sincere, but he certainly was not going to beg for her forgiveness. She used to know him better than that. Didn't she?

But that was before. Being in Tharsis brought him back to his roots, where feeling and caring marked you as a sucker. That had to be it. Being the head of a crime organization had changed him, made him meaner. That had to be it.

But it didn't explain his treatment of her when she had first discovered him in Tharsis, before he had moved to the penthouse of Samora Crown. It didn't explain why he had treated her so shabbily then. If he were in her shoes, she would have refused to see him at all.

"Why did you come tonight, Faye?"

She continued staring out the window. "What difference does it make?" she asked. "The night is over now."

"Will you just give me a straight answer?"

"I told you before, I wanted to hear what you had to say."

"And?"

"I guess I did." She turned to face him. "You're vicious and cruel, and I don't like you."

"Is that why you made out with me?" he taunted. The words were before he could stop himself.

She huffed and let her head fall against the window.

Spike was surprised that she didn't come back at him with a smart remark. Maybe she was writing him off. "I'm glad you came."

She looked at him with an emotionless expression. "Really."

"Yeah. Really."

"And why would the great Spike Spiegel want to hang out with the shrew, the annoying bitch, the-"

"I don't know, I wanted company."

"So, Jet was too busy?" she asked sarcastically.

He was silent for a moment. At least she was talking to him. He decided a little honesty wouldn't hurt. "I wanted your company," he said.

"Huh?" she asked incredulously.

"It's no fun when everyone is afraid of you," he said. "At least you're not afraid to give it back." He grinned at her. "I missed that."

"Idiot," Faye mumbled under her breath.

The comm rang and Spike thankfully picked it up. He spoke a few terse words and ended the call. He turned back to Faye.

"Alright if we stop by the Glowing Sun before I take you back to the Bebop?"

Faye eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

Spike fiddled with the seat rest. "Soo Ling told me to bring you by for a drink."

"Who the hell is Soo Ling?"

"You met her when you showed up at the Glowing Sun. She owns the place. And she's kind of my boss."

"You said you were the boss."

"I am. But she handles all the … uh … finances."

"Then what do you do? Sit at a desk and look pretty?" Her glare burned a hole in him as she waited for an answer.

He flashed her a provocative smile guaranteed to melt the glaciers of Titan for anyone else. But this wasn't anybody else, this was Faye. "Yeah. Plus I sign a few papers."

"Take me back first." Her gaze was unflinching.

Spike scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "It's just that Soo Ling made me promise to bring you around before you went back to Jet's."

"Yeah, and?"

"She said, 'no food deliveries ever again if you don't bring Faye over for a drink.'"

Faye narrowed her eyes. "Why would she want to see me?"

"She liked you."

"She hardly even saw me."

"You're the only one she's ever seen stand up to me."

Faye cut her eyes. "It's because you're a dumbass who doesn't know which way is up."

He grinned. "I guess you would know."

"Well, you are," she grumbled. She turned and looked out the window. "One drink. But then I'm going back to the ship."

The car zipped through the city towards the Glowing Sun.


	16. A Taste of Loneliness

I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Chapter 16. Taste of Loneliness**

The Glowing Sun Tavern came into view. The car came to a stop at the entrance. Spike got out and waited for Faye, careful this time to keep his eyes from straying to her legs as she slid out of the car. He ushered her inside and they headed over to sit at the bar. A few patrons were in the back playing pool, the cue balls cracking across the billiards table as the soft sounds of jazz drifted from the jukebox.

Grace came over to take their drink orders.

"Moonlighting tonight, Gracie?" Spike teased as she approached.

Grace giggled. "You've stolen Ronald from me tonight, so I have to keep myself busy somehow." She patted his shoulder.

"We haven't been introduced," Faye interrupted. "I'm Faye. And you are?"

Spike made a face. "Faye, Grace. Grace, Faye." He turned to Grace. "Let Soo Ling know we're here."

Faye rolled her eyes. "He is so rude," she said, smiling at Grace. They both laughed, ignoring Spike's grimace.

"Pleased to meet you, Faye." Grace extended her hand. "What can I get for you?"

"Whiskey on the rocks."

"That's Spike's drink too," Grace commented, looking at Spike.

"Yeah …" Spike mumbled. "Make that two and get Soo Ling."

"Yes sir, your lordship," Grace said. She winked at Faye. "Be right back." She stopped to whisper something to the new waitress who had just started that evening, then continued to the back office.

Spike drummed his fingers on the table and fixed his gaze on Faye. She stared back defiantly.

"What?"

He gave a crooked grin. "Can't I just look at you?"

"No." She picked up his cigarette pack from the bar and shook one out, slipping it between her lips. When she looked up, Spike was there with his lighter. She leaned over to light the end and took a puff.

"Nice lighter," she said as she exhaled the smoke in his direction. "It's a new one."

Spike smirked. "Yeah. You have the other one."

Faye quirked an eyebrow. "And how do you figure that?"

He laughed. "Come on Faye, I know you have it. You used it at Jet's."

Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Okay, so? Do you want it back?"

Spike leaned his elbows on the bar and looked at her from under his bangs. "Nah, you can keep it." He fingered the new Zippo with the etched dragon.

Grace returned with their drinks. Spike took a swallow and set the glass down, his eyes on Faye. She stared back with a look of steel in her eyes. If looks could kill, he'd be sitting here with a nine inch blade in his gut. Back in the car, she had told him that she didn't like him. He couldn't blame her. It was easier being an asshole around her. Kept him from thinking about other things, like how he really felt about her. She was a major pain in the ass herself, and they both knew quite well how to push each other's buttons. In the past, they both had taken the "I can top that" attitude a little too far. At least he did, anyway. Even in the middle of their nasty spats, she had never thrown Julia or his past in her face. He couldn't say that he never did, especially when they were out of cigarettes and low on food, when just the sight of her sarcastic smile would set him over the edge, and he'd insult her taste in clothing or her selfishness. She would storm off in a huff and Jet's eyes would follow her with an almost disguised look of concern. He snorted. Why was he thinking about all of this now?

Faye looked at him curiously. "What, laughing to yourself now?"

He scowled at her.

Faye crossed her legs, her small hand making circles on the table. "I don't know, Spike, this new career of yours has pushed you over the edge of sanity." She smiled at him and daintily lifted her glass to her lips.

Soo Ling came out from the back office and walked over to the bar.

"Yo." Spike grinned at her.

Soo Ling simply nodded and turned to Faye. "Hello again, Ms. Valentine."

"Please, call me Faye."

"Okay, Faye." Soo Ling came from behind the bar and took the seat next to Faye. "So, you are slumming with this one?"

"Just for old times sake," Faye said.

"You were bunkmates on that ship that Jet Black owns."

Faye nodded. "That was a lifetime ago." She gestured towards Spike. "He was an idiot back then."

"And he has not changed at all," Soo Ling said with a smile.

Faye laughed. The two of them huddled closer and began talking. Faye stopped and glared at Spike. "Don't you have something to do?"

He guessed that was his cue to get lost. He got up and walked over to the jukebox. He inserted his money card and selected a song. Peals of laughter from the bar floated to his ears. The girl session seemed to be going really well. He clenched his jaw and stabbed his finger against the buttons to choose another song. The sound of guitars and screaming voices that came blaring through the jukebox reminded him of VT. "She never laughs like that with me," he mumbled. He shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. Talking to himself now too. Whoa. Faye was right, he was really losing it.


End file.
